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By the Same Author. 

The Spiritual Man. Price, 10 cents. 

Spiritual L,ife in the Book of Psalms. Price, 15 cents. 

By Mrs. Geo. C. Needham. 

The Antichrist. Price, paper, 15 cents; cloth, 25 cents. 
Poetic Paraphrases. A neat gift-book. Price, 50 cents. 

By Mr. and Mrs. Geo. C. Needham. 

Bible Briefs for Scripture Students. Price, $1.00, post- 
paid. 72 Bible House, New York. 




FATHER FLYNN 



GEO. C. NEEDHAM. 

M 




NEW YORK: 

JAMES A. O’CONNOR, PUBLISHER, 
72 Bible House. 



Copyright, 1890, 
by Geo. C. Needham. 


Electrotyped and Printed by 
Samuel Usher, 171 Devonshire Street, Boston, Mass. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Priest’s Holiday 5 

II. An Important Decision 17 

III. Conscience or Tradition? .... 25 

IV. Interesting Discoveries 35 

V. Try or Trust? 45 

VI. A Crisis at Hand 54 

VII. Emigration : Why and Wherefore . 61 

VIII. A Decidedly Materialized Spirit . 70 

IX. Kleeros and Laos 80 

X. Cast Down, but Not Destroyed . . 90 

XI. Perplexed, but Not in Despair . .100 

XII. Pleasing Discoveries 106 

Appendix 119 



FATHER FLYNN. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE PRIEST’S HOLIDAY. # 

The political, commercial, social, and reli- 
gious life of the Irish people has been a subject 
of interest throughout every civilized land. 
Prophets, chiefly of the dreamy type, have pre- 
dicted Ireland’s future gloom and glory ; sages 
and statesmen have planned her best forms of 
government according to their respective judg- 
ments — varied enough ! Artists and poets 
have portrayed, by pen and pencil, her blem- 
ishes and her beauty. Her mystic traditions, 
legends, and superstitions have commanded the 
attention of scholars, while antiquarians and 
archaeologists have endeavored to decipher 
her manuscripts and her monuments. Her re- 
ligious instincts have called out a multitude of 
theories from theologians and ecclesiastics, 


6 


Father Flynn . 


while historians have delved into ages past to 
find her origin, hitherto concealed from mortal 
ken. An impenetrable mystery surrounds her 
genesis. Antiquities, ancient towers, venerable 
monasteries, and hoary castles have been laid 
under tribute, but refused to divulge the un- 
questioned secret of Ireland’s aboriginals. Of 
our Gallic fathers two thousand years ago, we 
have this information : that they were “ good 
soldiers, but poor organizers ; brave and dashing 
rather than methodical or persevering ; im- 
possible to subdue even when conquered ; 
excitable, impulsive, and quick in resentment, 
but generous and warmhearted ; brilliant in 
wit and ingenuity, of intense patriotism and 
deep religious convictions.” 

This characterization does not need to be 
revised in describing Ireland for two millen- 
niums ; as we enter upon the third, it must 
undergo a change. For our Ireland is passing 
onwards towards a crisis. The gay, happy-go- 
lucky life of the peasantry is taking on a sombre 
hue ; the shiftlessness of the past is becoming 
more than industry — the spirit of greed for 
gold and its accompanying spectre, discontent, 
stalks abroad. Whether this metamorphosis of 
the Irish nature is for weal or woe we will not 
predict. Has Ireland been impoverished through 


The Priest's Holiday. 


7 


misgovernment ? Will she be restored to pros- 
perity by legal enactments ? Is she indeed free 
from every curse but that of poverty ? England 
has not been kind or just toward her weaker 
sister ; for her governmental injustice and race 
prejudice she must suffer. But are there no 
deep-seated evils working in the Irish race for 
which they are themselves responsible ? Surely 
the symptoms which come to the surface are 
not from grievances laid on, but from the gan- 
grene within. There is a disease virulent, all- 
consuming, deadening alike to intellect, con- 
science, and faith. And there is a remedy, 
thanks be unto God, more radical, more poten- 
tial than statutes, bills, governmental reforms, 
or home legislation. We must therefore hasten 
towards an illustrated explanation of this true 
elixir of life. 

In a lovely though obscure parish of Ireland 
there lived and labored a devoted priest whose 
ministrations were unremitting, and whose love 
for his parishioners led him to brave the darkest 
night or dreariest journey in order to attend 
upon the dying, to dry the orphan’s tear, or 
to comfort the widow’s heart. 

Father Murty — in full the Rev. Murtagh 
Flynn — was a kindhearted, genial, whole-souled 


8 


Father Flynn. 


man, zealous in parish duties, and charitably 
disposed towards all men. His bishop, on the 
other hand, was a keen-eyed ecclesiastic, gaunt 
and grim from constant meditation on schemes 
for church advancement and personal prefer- 
ment. He closely watched the good-natured 
priest whom he suspected. There was no 
neglect of priestly duties, but he had reason for 
knowing that Father Flynn was not sufficiently 
strict toward his penitents, and that he fre- 
quently allowed them to escape from well- 
merited penance. 

And indeed, Father Murty was most un-cath- 
olic in some things. “ Arrah, you poor child,” 
he would say to a youthful transgressor, “ don’t 
be bothering your silly head in thrying to think 
of sins you never committed. Shure the likes 
of you could no more break a commandment 
than the blessed Virgin herself. Get up off 
your knees, my dear, and receive my blessing.” 
Such indulgence from a father confessor would 
lessen the revenue of the Church, and however 
agreeable to the priest’s feelings, it stung to the 
quick the overweening and sensitive bishop, who 
by some hook or crook heard of these things. 
“ Be the powers,” a harmless expression often 
on Father Flynn’s lips — “ Be the powers, shure 
half my parish are innocent children, an’ the 


The Priest's Holiday. 


9 


other half are such simple-hearted creatures 
they wouldn’t kill a fly. I wish it was the 
ould fox himself [the bishop] I had in the con- 
fessional, be dad, for shure I ’d thrap him.” 
After this admission to himself, the jovial priest 
indulged in a peal of laughter at the striking 
figure of speech with which he so aptly charac- 
terized the “ big man.” 

Father Flynn was a child of nature, of rustic 
feeling and rugged frame. He loved horses 
and dogs ; the bishop loved neither. When his 
own convenience or comfort was advanced 
through their agency, he showed some little in- 
terest in them. He had no objection to the fine 
hare killed by the priest’s famous greyhound 
Nancy, when presented to him by Nancy’s mas- 
ter. He was even seen to pat the priest’s horse 
Music after conveying him twenty miles on an 
important visit. But the bishop was extraordi- 
narily good-natured on that day, going far 
beyond his niggard disposition, inquiring even 
into Music’s pedigree and value. The bishop 
had horses of his own, but he thought of them 
only as so much machinery, like his carriages. 
Weightier matters of the law in relation to 
Church and State engrossed the thoughts of 
this consequential dignitary; why should he 
give his attention or affection to animals — or 
to human beings either ? 


10 


Father Flynn. 


Circumstances were ordinary at the parish of 
Turf Bog and with its priest Father Murty, in- 
cluding the occasional hints given by the loyal 
bishop concerning the priest’s laxity generally 
and his hare-hunting particularly. True, the 
bishop himself was a mighty hunter, slim as the 
famed greyhound, with as keen an eye for game. 
But the game was larger and worthy of such an 
ecclesiastical sportsman. He would hunt a 
heretic to the death, and never paused to ques- 
tion conscience when he set his traps for Prot- 
estant “ gentry.” Circumstances, I have said, 
were ordinary in Father Flynn’s parish, until 
one day the rotund and smiling priest started 
on a two weeks’ vacation. He had not been in 
Dublin more than half a dozen times since leav- 
ing Maynooth College, the last visit having 
been paid two years prior to the above date. 
Then he was sent by the bishop to the leaders 
of the Nationalist party to make inquiry con- 
cerning a political movement in its relation to 
the Church. Bishop O’Dowd held direct com- 
munication with the Vatican on Irish political 
and ecclesiastical affairs ; and being at this time 
indisposed, he entrusted Father Murty with this 
delicate mission, meanwhile fretting inwardly 
lest the simple-hearted priest should involve the 
Jesuitical bishop by his artless frankness. 


The Priest's Holiday . 


11 


Father Flynn hated Jesuitism as hotly as 
he loved dogs. Being a good lover, he could 
be a good hater. He was an ardent lover of 
his country and her people, but feared political 
and secret leagues, if for no better reason than 
that O’Dowd slyly encouraged them. The jo- 
vial priest, on principle, took the opposite view 
of his bishop on all political questions. “Be 
the powers,” he would say to himself, “how 
can a green-eyed Jesuit see anything in its 
true light ? ” 1 He loved fair dealing, and with 
other Irish priests fought for honesty, purity, 
and justice. But he was imprudently out- 
spoken, a sorry quality in any servant of the 
Vatican. It was therefore well known that he 
despised the cunning intrigues of the Jesuits. 
O’Dowd often wished he had never sent the 
blunt priest on that errand. 

But now Father Flynn is entering the city 
he dearly loved, free from every responsibility. 
He is without a care, eager for a stroll through 
Phoenix Park to chat with the natives, or poke 
fun at the youthful constables. 

Arriving at Kingsbridge railroad station he 
alighted from the train before even thinking of 
lodgings. “ Be the powers,” said he aloud, for 


1 The bishop was not officially connected with the order of the Jes- 
uits though thoroughly Jesuitical in nature and practice. 


12 


Father Flynn. 


his thoughts were generally outspoken, — one 
of his eccentricities, — 44 where shall I deposit 
me bag while I hunt up me temporary quar- 
ters ? ” 44 This way, your reverence,” smote his 

ear in pure Milesian brogue, as if in response to 
his question; and before him stood the red-faced 
cabman, whip in hand, jerking his thumb over 
his shoulder, indicating that his cab was close 
by. 44 1 did n’t speak to you, me man,” said 
Father Flynn, 44 but anyhow, how do you pro- 
pose to dispose of me, if I unreservedly commit 
myself, a holy father, to your carnal hands? 
Now out with it, me modern Jehu ! ” The 
good priest chuckled to himself after this wordy 
badinage, a habit in which he occasionally 
indulged when in conversation with the peas- 
antry. 

The Jehu was nonplused by this superfine 
appeal rattled off like a Hail Mary or a Gloria 
Patri. But Father Flynn, knowing the power 
of the vernacular, let loose his tongue on the 
unfortunate cabby. 44 Be the powers, I believe 
you are an idiot. Shut your pratee-thrap, you 
bosthoon, 1 and don’t stare at me wid your two 
eyes like saucers burstin’ out av your impty 
head. Dhrive me to The Goleen.” 

In former years every good Catholic quaked 

1 Big boy. 


The Priest's Holiday. 13 

before an irate priest, but under the tutelage 
of professional politicians the Irish peasantry 
are losing reverence for the clergy, and stand 
in less fear of them. Occasionally, however, 
country boys are met with who are more 
alarmed by the frown of a priest than with the 
blackest thundercloud. The bolt could only 
kill the body, while the priest’s curse could 
destroy both soul and body in hell ! Peter 
Delaney, the driver, who undesignedly stirred 
the amiable priest, and brought upon himself a 
torrent of good-natured abuse, was a recent im- 
portation to the city. He had not lost his 
country superstition, and fancied a metamor- 
phosis would then and there take place. Would 
the priest change him into a butting goat or 
into a timid rabbit? Peter’s wits were wool- 
gathering, nor would he have leaped so nimbly 
to his seat, if Father Flynn had not recalled his 
senses by crying out, “ What are you waiting 
for, you omadhaun ? ” 1 Nevertheless Peter 
pinched himself several times, and spoke to his 
horse purposely to hear his own voice, in order 
that he might be fully assured he was not 
already changed into a goat or rabbit. “ Faix,” 
said he, “ I had a narrow escape. I thought the 
horns were pushing out through me hat, and 
I felt like puckin’ his fat body.” 


1 Big fool. 


14 


Father Flynn. 


As the cab rattled over the stony pavement, 
Father Flynn’s eye caught sight of a board 
lifted by an old woman, on which was pasted a 
notice. Another and still another appeared to 
view. 

He therefore read the following announce- 
ment : — 

MERRION HALL. 

(LOWER MERRION ST.) 

MR. , EVANGELIST, WILL (D. V.) PREACH THE 

GOSPEL OF THE GRACE OF GOD, THIS EVENING 
AT 8 O’CLOCK. 

ALL ARE WELCOME. 

“God coramendeth His love toward us in that while 
we were yet sinners Christ died for us.” 

“ 4 The Gospel of the Grace of God,’ ” solilo- 
quized the priest. 44 1 don’t ever remember 
meeting with that sentence before. It is a 
poetic phrase, rhythmical, alliterative. 4 Gospel,’ 
‘Grace,’ 4 God.’ Be the powers, there it is 
again ! ” as another poor old creature dressed in 
rags fixed her eyes upon him and asked charity 
while the cab was detained in a crowded street. 
Father Flynn was a generous man. He handed 
her a sixpence, meantime inquiring how much 
she earned. 44 A shilling a day and me boord 
replied the saucy hag as she passed on. 44 The 
poor creatures,” murmured the priest; “their 


The Priest's Holiday. 


15 


wit comes as natural as a grunt from a mule or 
a kick from a pig,” delightfully unconscious of 
the bull he had made in his ^natural reversal 
of these animals’ habits. 

Leaning back in his cab, a keen observer 
could readily perceive that the priest’s mind 
was busy with other thoughts. “ ‘ Gospel,’ 
‘Grace,’ ‘God.’ Aye,” he added, “I think I see 
a glimmer of light,” as he recalled the scripture 
text on the bills, “ God commendeth His love 
toward us in that while we were yet sinners 
Christ died for us .” “ The meaning of ‘ Gospel,’ 

I know is ‘ glad tidings,’ but ‘ Grace ’ I do not 
understand unless it be this : God loved sin- 
ners as sinners. Christ died for sinners as shi- 
ners. Be the powers, that must be it. I 
thought he only loved saints , and dear help me, 
I always knew I was not much of a saint, 
though I think I ’m still far ahead of the ould 
Jesuit.” He then repeated a Hail Mary, and 
added, “t) Virgin Mary, intercede for me; Saint 
Joseph, pray for me ; my Guardian Angel, pro- 
tect me ; all ye Saints and Angels of heaven, 
pray for me. Amen.” But neither in the rem- 
nant of self-righteousness of which he had 
boasted, nor from this prayer which he had so 
fervently uttered, did he derive comfort. Hav- 
ing reached the door of The Goleen, he was 


16 


Father Flynn. 


shown to his room, where he further indulged 
in these reflections, which resulted in exciting 
within him a curiosity to hear this “ Gospel of 
the Grace of God.” 


CHAPTER II. 


AN IMPORTANT DECISION. 

Merrion Hall is a well-known building 
standing by itself in Lower Merrion Street, ad- 
jacent to the beautiful square from which it 
takes its name. It is a large stone building, 
looking more like a house for trade than a house 
of prayer. But it has been a noted centre for 
Christian endeavor. The Hall, with its wide- 
spread evangelizing influences, is a product of 
the great revival which swept over the island 
in the years 1859-62. That revival was a reli- 
gious resurrection, perhaps unsurpassed in the 
history of the Christian Church. There were 
features which characterized it as “ The Irish 
Revival,” because of accompanying phenomena 
mysterious and startling. Connected with the 
“ manifestations ” which theologians discussed 
and the orthodox feared, there was deep convic- 
tion of sin , a sure indication of the Holy Spirit’s 
work, which prepares the soul for a proper ap- 
preciation and a hearty reception of the gospel 
of Jesus Christ. 


18 


Father Flynn. 


Many of the ministers, who had fallen into a 
state of dreary formalism and inert preaching, 
were quickened into newness of life, and began 
to preach the gospel of grace simply, directly, 
and persuasively. 

All sorts of people were moved : bishops and 
clergy ; masters and servants ; merchants and 
clerks ; farmers and laborers ; aged sires and 
little children ; soldiers, policemen, sailors, skep- 
tics and blasphemers, besides the lowest of the 
people. All religious parties were affected. 
Protestants of every denomination, Roman 
Catholics of every order — the orange and the 
green — bowed before the cross. Thousands of 
all ranks were happily led for salvation to “ the. 
Lamb of God,” by whose precious blood we are 
redeemed. These were times of refreshing un- 
known before in Ireland’s religious history, in 
the depth, breadth, and intensity of the move- 
ment. After a few years Merrion Hall was 
built to accommodate the people who eagerly 
crowded the vast building to hear the Gospel 
of the Grace of God. From then till now, the 
building, consecrated to the gospel, has been a 
great centre of evangelistic activity. Pastors 
and evangelists have preached and taught from 
its platform ; ministers and missionaries of every 
orthodox name have labored within its walls in 


An Important Decision . 


19 


word and doctrine. And forth from its hal- 
lowed associations men and women have gone to 
the ends of the earth “ to seek and to save that 
which is lost.” But of Merrion Hall, with its 
divers streams of spiritual influences going forth 
to bless the world, Father Murty had little 
knowledge. True, he had heard of it, but only 
as a dangerously heretical place of worship 
which all good Catholics should avoid as they 
would a pesthouse. But his determination is 
not shaken, for though proposing to do an ac- 
cursed thing, he has lived long enough to know 
that Rome’s curses often come home to roost. 
Innocent curiosity was not the sole motive 
which decided him to embark on this adven- 
ture. Like many other priests, his conscience 
had been ill at ease ; his heart was unsatisfied. 
He dared not hide from himself the fear that 
absolution from the lips of a sinful brother-priest 
was but a mocking delusion. His soul thirsted 
for the water of life. “ Bedad,” said he once 
after confession, “ here I ’ve been on my 
knees before Father Cassidy when he was 
dhrunk as a piper. Just think of me saying 
the Confiteor to that reverend ass ; the Lord 
forgive me for that same, though indeed I don’t 
call him out of his name. It was n’t enough to 
have me own heart racked with the thoughts of 


20 


Father Flynn. 


me sins, and they are many, but to have me 
prospect of peace ruined by me gentleman ask- 
ing me, with the absolution scarcely out of his 
mouth, to come round to the house and he ’d 
give me a nate dhrop which came from Patsey 
Lahey’s still ! An’ that same Patsey as big a 
blackguard as you ’d find from here to Cork. 
But be the powers, if he ’s too smart for the 
police, Father Cassidy can collar him, and ab- 
solve him too, for a jug of the native.” These 
were some of Father Flynn’s cogitations, spoken 
aloud as was his custom, especially when deeply 
moved. They indicate his condition, which he 
rightly described in his prayer after confes- 
sion : “ I am weary in pursuit of empty toys, 
seeking in vain to satisfy my thirst with muddy 
waters, and my hunger with the husks fit only 
for swine.” 

Father Flynn had found his room at The 
Goleen bare of comforts, yet clean and tidy. In 
addition to the bed, there was a small table 
which held a pitcher and basin, two chairs, and 
a dwarfish chest of drawers, entirely too com- 
mon to be dignified with the name of bureau. 
There were a few cheap prints on the wall : one 
of the holy family, another representing the cru- 
cifixion ; the third looked like an English 
squire of half a century ago, but we could 


An Important Decision . 


21 


hardly expect an Englishman to be so honored 
in The Goleen. It was a picture of the great 
Irish agitator, Daniel O’Connell. The room 
was carpetless, but the country priest was unac- 
customed to luxuries. He ate heartily, slept 
well, kept himself tolerably tidy, and what more 
did he require? He had no artificial wants, 
and was therefore delightfully regardless of 
artificial luxuries. After a refreshing wash, he 
ordered supper. It was served in his room, as 
he wished to be alone. During the progress 
of the meal he became abstracted. His eyes 
looked into vacancy while he revolved within 
himself the only theory of salvation known to 
him. He knew it lacked in power, and felt hu- 
miliated over its failure, and terrified with the 
fear of dying unprepared. Suddenly an uncon- 
scious smile broke over his features, while a 
morsel of meat poised on the fork remained un- 
tasted ; for before his mental vision floated in 
letters of light the magic sentence, “ The Gos- 
pel of the Grace of God,” followed by 
that sublime passage, “ Cod commendeth his love 
toward us in that while we were yet sinners 
Christ died for us .” And even as these words 
melted away there stood out clearly defined in 
large capitals the simple legend 


“ MERRION HALL. ! 


22 


Father Flynn. 


Then the spell was broken, the priest turned 
his attention to the unfinished supper, a quiet 
resolve possessed him as he exclaimed, “ I ’ll 
go ! Yes,” he added, “ be the powers, I will ! 
’T is surely no sin to hear ‘ the Gospel of the 
Grace of God,’ and though this Merrion Hall 
may be a heresy-shop, how can it harm a truly 
and duly consecrated priest of the Holy — 
Catholic — Church ? ” Even while finishing 
this speech, drawling out the final words, he 
looked in the mirror and actually detected him- 
self winking in a very decided manner. 

“What will the ould fox say?” he added, “for 
be the powers he ’ll hear of it, shure as I put 
sugar in me tea,” suiting the action to the 
words as he dropped the lumps into his cup. 
“Still an’ all,” he went on, “is it right for a 
priest to fear his bishop? Is n’t the slavery of 
conscience the worst kind of slavery? Why 
should a Jesuit or the Pope himself interfere 
with me private judgment in things pertaining 
to God?” With the suddenness of alarm, fear- 
ing he had fallen under the power of the Evil 
One, he lifted his hands and, looking upward, 
uttered the fervent prayer, “ May the Lord for- 
give me if I have been guilty of blasphemy.” 
Even then he wished for a father confessor, 
while rapidly through his mind went the usual 


An Important Decision. 


2‘d 


form of confession : “ I confess to Almighty 
God, to blessed Mary, ever Virgin, to blessed 
Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the 
Baptist, to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, 
and to all the saints, that I have sinned ex- 
ceedingly in thought, word, and deed ; through 
my fault, through my fault, through my most 
grievous fault.” 

We must not rashly judge the priest as a man 
of whims and contrarieties. Not permitted to 
think for himself, he was the subject of un- 
ceasing conflict between conscientious loyalty 
to the Church and his own inherent instincts 
towards spiritual freedom. Between the im- 
pulses toward individual independence and ser- 
vile submission to ecclesiastical authority, the 
priest was crushed ; at times he upbraided him- 
self for disloyal sentiments, and anon despised 
himself for bartering away his manhood. One 
of the most aggressive Catholic priests whom 
we had known personally, who fought Protest- 
antism openly and savagely, was Protestant at 
heart. His liberalism of thought became known 
at Rome, hence he lost a bishopric. Though a 
most learned man, whose name and fame reached 
every part of Ireland, he was yet considered 
dangerous. Having refused to become a ma- 
chine by yielding up every fibre of his being to 
Rome, he was left to die unrewarded. 


24 


Father Flynn. 


Father Flynn was not singular in his suffer- 
ings ; other priests too well know the agony 
of this inward conflict : conflict between an en- 
lightened judgment and an enslaved conscience. 
But on this occasion courage prevailed over 
cowardice, and conscience dared ecclesiastical 
censure. For even as he mentally rehearsed the 
confession, he was busy in effecting a simple 
disguise, and sallied forth, cautiously inquiring 
the way to Merrion Hall. 


CHAPTER III. 


CONSCIENCE OR TRADITION? 

The priest entered the building with the 
crowd, and soon found himself comfortably 
seated in a large, well-lighted, cheerful audi- 
torium. Immediately after his arrival the 
service commenced, the preacher announcing 
the number of the opening hymn. Father 
Flynn at first felt rather awkward, as if an in- 
truder ; his embarrassment increased when a 
young lady occupying an adjoining seat offered 
the use of her hymnbook. This act of courtesy 
was rendered with a peculiar grace of delicacy 
native to the Irish born, while an encouraging 
smile assured him, a stranger, a hearty welcome. 
Though a celibate, his impulsive nature was not 
proof against a pure and lovely girl’s smile. It 
awoke a response in a soul which could love 
with tender affection and manly honor. In- 
stinctively he recognized the fact that this lady 
was his superior in spiritual experience, and 
rightly surmised that already she may have 
secretly hoped that the stranger had come, with 


. 26 Father Flynn. 

an anxious desire, to learn something of the 
grace of God. 

The preacher read the hymn with modulated 
voice and in measured cadences. It soothed the 
priest. He had been for some hours the subject 
of contending emotions ; the sweet poem, new 
to him, allayed his mental excitement. He had 
not specially noticed its theology until the con- 
gregation engaged in the worship of song. A 
precentor led without an instrument ; there 
was no choir to monopolize the praise ; no pro- 
fessional singers to disturb that godly con- 
gregation with their Italian airs and unmeaning 
renditions. The tune was commonplace but 
strong, cheerful but not frivolous. The peo- 
ple wore a serious aspect, as if conscious of 
transacting business with heaven. The priest 
felt subdued ; a hush fell upon his inmost soul ; 
the words of the hymn so devoutly rendered by 
the great congregation fitted exactly into his 
conscious moral needs. It entered his heart, 
hitherto locked, through ignorance, against the 
gospel of grace. Perhaps it will drive back the 
rusty bolt, so that through the open door will 
shine into his soul the light of life. 

As the loud shout of fervent praise from a 
thousand voices filled the spacious house, the 
visitor became painfully reflective. He forgot 


Conscience or Tradition I 


27 


his office, he lost sight of his priestly sanctity; 
the light revealed him to himself a sinful man. 
As an ecclesiastic he had never enjoyed the cer- 
tain knowledge of pardon. Rome had long since 
decreed through her teachers that the assur- 
ance of salvation was a prime error of heretics. 
Like others upon whose conscience the light of 
Sinai had flashed, he feared the coming judg- 
ment. He had been no stranger to the working 
of his own fleshly nature ; he had often loathed 
himself because that even in moments of re- 
ligious duties strange passions moved him, 
horrid blasphemies assailed him, and unright- 
eous thoughts chased each other like hideous 
spectres across the fields of his inner life. Was 
there no help for him ? no Saviour, who would 
not only forgive the past, but who could also 
give him victory over sinful propensities in the 
present ? The theology of the hymn was not 
altogether new to him, for as a papal priest he 
had been indoctrinated in the historical record 
of our Lord’s death, and often moved by its 
recital. The passion of the cross was not a 
fresh truth, but somehow the teaching of the 
hymn made it now more potential to his soul. 
It was peculiarly appropriate to his troubled 
conscience, while it played havoc with his 
Romish traditions. He was yet oblivious of the 


28 


Father Flynn . 


fact that in proportion as he received its senti- 
ment he was preparing himself for excommuni- 
cation. But why should he break the charming 
spell now upon him ? — a good spell indeed ! - 

How little we know what a harvest our seed- 
sowing will produce ! He that soweth to the 
flesh shall reap a sorry harvest indeed, but he 
that soweth seeds of gospel truth by voice or 
pen is truly wise in his generation. The great 
Isaac Watts devoted the strength of his mind 
to hymn-writing. It was one of his productions 
which now winged its way to the heart of the 
priest. The brain that conceived and the hand 
which penned the hymn had long been still in 
death. But though dead, his spiritual songs 
live. Pity that such hymns are relegated to 
obscurity by a large portion of our professedly 
religious people. Modern hymns have sup- 
planted them. Hymns, did I say — yes, peer- 
less, scriptural, poetic, elevating. Nevertheless, 
there is a vast multitude of silly rhymes, 
jingles, ditties, lacking ideas, wanting in truth, 
without sense ; vapid nothings, wordy senti- 
mental emptiness, called hymns. They are 
written by the yard, sold by the ton, and sung 
by the million. They deteriorate worship, 
prostitute praise, and dishonor Him whose 
name should not be flippantly sung nor frivo<* 


Conscience or Tradition f 


29 


lously spoken, and whose Majesty ought not to 
be insulted by familiar terms of endearment 
which are suitable only between intimate friends 
or youthful lovers. Hymn-writers like Dr. 
Watts are not sufficiently appreciated. New 
and infantile theology must have nursery 
rhymes ; spiritual Mother Goose’s melodies are 
the lullabys for the cradle-Christians of our day. 

The singing continued, while the priest re- 
flected on the sublime truth uttered in the 
verse : — 

“Not all the blood of beasts, 

On Jewish altars slain, 

Could give the guilty conscience peace, 

Or wash away the stain.” 

The people were giving earnest voice to the 
next verse, 

“ But Christ the heavenly Lamb 
Takes all our sins away ; ” 

when instantly the conviction enforced itself 
upon the priest, What need then of penance? 
of absolution ? of purgatory ? His mind is ab- 
normally active. He takes mental notes of 
this heretical theology, yet dislikes it not ; he 
dare not think evil of it. Why should he re- 
fuse to acknowledge the full worth of Christ’s 


30 


Father Flynn. 


atoning blood? For does not his Testament 
teach most authoritatively that the blood of 
Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin (1 John 1 : 
7 ; 1 Peter 1 : 18, 19). Already his heart is 
enlisted as they sing : — 

“ My faith would lay her hand 
On that dear head of thine, 

While like a penitent I stand, 

And there confess my sin.” 

To the volume of song rendered by the great 
congregation with heart and voice, Father 
Flynn’s poetical nature was fully alive. He 
was more than interested, he was deeply af- 
fected, nor could he refrain from silent tears 
as the worshipers sang : — 

“My soul looks back to see 
The burdens thou didst bear 
When hanging on the cursed tree, 

And knows her guilt was there. 

Believing we rejoice 
To see the curse remove; 

We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice, 

And sing his bleeding love.” 

Isaac Watts rightly understood the divine 
scheme of salvation which he in this grand 
hymn so scripturally depicted. He restrained 


Conscience or Tradition ? 


31 


poetic fancy, lest, like an untamed steed, he 
may carry his trusting reader beyond the point 
of safety. The poet is a preacher : he should 
therefore assure himself well that he is treading 
along the right way ; that he is journeying in 
the right direction in order to give convincing 
expression to his descriptions or appeals. Poets 
unclean of life and impure in thought, whose 
feet tread forbidden paths, are false teachers. 
A tainted fountain cannot give pure water. 
When sottish men write eulogies on the pleas- 
ures of virtue, the devil laughs them to scorn. 
Not so, such men as Watts. He knew Whom 
he believed. He trusted in Jesus Christ for 
personal salvation ; hence his own assurance 
and peace. What a contrast the hymn which 
so deeply moved the priest, to the following 
piece of blasphemy : — 

“ Heart of Jesus, I adore thee, 

Heart of Mary, I implore thee, 

Heart of Joseph, pure and just, 

In these three hearts I place my trust.” 

That an educated priest with well-trained 
sensibilities, a man, too, of stern resolve, should 
be affected by a simple melody is no enigma to 
those who have been enlightened by the Holy 
Scriptures on the sovereign ministry of the Holy 


82 


Father Flynn . 


Spirit. The conceited philosopher, the proud 
skeptic, and the superstitious priest are alike 
clay in the hand of the divine Potter. He can 
break, and bend, and mold as He will ; He can 
open the fountains of the great deep in the 
human soul when it doth please Him so to do ; 
the savage and the child are equally plastic in 
His hand. Nevertheless we are invited to co- 
operate with Him in His ministry of mercy, and 
to put ourselves into harmony with His gracious 
operations. Father Flynn was now under the 
Spirit’s blessed influences, though he knew it 
not. Hitherto the third person of the blessed 
Trinity had a place in his theology, but his 
heart was not His temple. 

After the congregation sang the hymn, the 
preacher offered a prayer of invocation. It was 
a purely extemporaneous prayer, neither read 
from a prayer-book nor recited from memory. 
The local allusions and references to present 
circumstances assured the priest that it was not 
the repetition of anything previously manufac- 
tured, but rather a prayer born into newness of 
life as each utterance left the preacher’s lips. 
Its simplicity of style, earnestness of petition, 
definiteness of thanksgiving, and withal its de- 
vout reverence, as if the worshiper stood with 
unshod feet in the presence of the dread Holy 


Conscience or Tradition ? 


33 


One — the recognition of relationship with God, 
as that of child and father, awed the priest into 
a profound solemnity, while it produced within 
him a consciously joyful confidence that this 
prayer was truly registered in heaven. The 
petitioner acknowledged and confessed all lack 
of merit ; that righteousness was not found in the 
creature ; that all had sinned and justly deserved 
everlasting punishment. He also thankfully 
referred to God’s condescending love in giving 
His only begotten Son ; to the completed atone- 
ment made by that Son — Son of God and son 
of the blessed Virgin — who, on the cross as 
the Sacrifice for sin, put sin away; for His blood 
so precious, so potential, that it alone cancels 
sin, yea blots it out of God’s book of remem- 
brance, and purges the defiled conscience of 
every contrite sinner trusting in Jesus. In the 
prayer allusion was made to the presence and 
work of the Holy Spirit, by whose ministry of 
grace the humble Christian is made victorious 
over every form of temptation. The absence 
of petition to virgin or saint was noticed by 
Father Flynn, though the omission had not 
startled him. He had heard that Protestants 
hated both Mary the mother of our Lord and 
every saint in the calendar, but had not yet 
learned that this charge is an absurd falsehood. 


34 


Father Flynn. 


To their affections the memory of the Virgin is 
very dear, but they do not worship her nor seek 
her intercession; doing so would rob Jesus of 
the glory belonging to Him as the only Priest 
and Intercessor. When the priest now heard al- 
lusions of profound respect towards the blessed 
Virgin, and all the saints who shall join in the 
great song of redemption, his unjustifiable 
prejudices were instantly swept away. He 
thought if this preacher was a representative 
Protestant, then Protestants must not be re- 
garded as enemies, but as brothers. “For, 
bedad,” said he to himself afterward, in the 
quietness of his room, “in spite of me traditions, 
me heart warmed towards the man when he 
spoke so feelingly of the blessed mother of 
Jesus. And when he prayed for us, the Cath- 
olic clergy, there was no bitter denunciation of 
us, but with trembling voice he prayed that 
we may know Christ experimentally as the 
only Saviour from sin, and begin to preach the 
Gospel of the Grace of God to our unhappy 
people. Be the powers, I could n’t help saying 
‘Amen,’ especially when that kindly consider- 
ate young lady responded so fervently with a 
double ‘ Amen.’ ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


INTERESTING DISCOVERIES. 

The Irish priesthood chiefly constitute two 
classes : the one political, the other spiritual. 
The first hopes for the restoration of the Pope’s 
temporal sovereignty over all nations, and the 
consequent overthrow of Protestantism every- 
where ; the second class, greatly in the minority, 
endeavor to promote the spirituality and exten- 
sion of the Church as Christ’s kingdom, by faith- 
ful oversight of the flock and conscientious ful- 
filment of ecclesiastical duties. Father Murty 
was of this latter type. Beneath the vein of 
jocularity, which lay near the surface of his 
nature, were deeper and richer veins of piety 
and holy aspirations. Even his entrance into a 
Protestant place of worship was chiefly induced 
by the motive that he might hear something 
from this “ Gospel of the Grace of God ” which 
would help him to be a better priest and a more 
helpful pastor. The light for which he looked 
came, but more intense than he had expected, 
and, like the natural sun, almost blinded him 


36 


Father Flynn. 


with its brilliancy,- “ Have I been like a rat in 
a hole, or a mole in the ground ? ” said the 
priest in soliloquy, “or has this blessed light 
only now visited the world? Be the powers, 
I ’m dazed like an owl at noon, and will have to 
get to me room and think.” Such were the 
holy father’s musings at the close of the sermon. 
He had indeed made acquaintance with some 
features of that Gospel which had been hiddeh 
from him. But to resume : The preacher an- 
nounced the fifth chapter of Romans as the por- 
tion of Scripture he intended to read and ex- 
pound, having first offered the brief prayer that 
the Holy Spirit, the divine Author of Holy Scrip- 
ture, would enlighten every understanding, and 
interpret His W ord to every soul. Father Murty 
instinctively felt that these people fully believed 
in the divinity and infallibility of the Bible. 
“ Maybe,” thought he, “ that is why they are 
so persistent in preaching it. Shure if it is 
God ’s holy Word I can’t blame them to spend 
their money in sending it to the ends of the 
earth. And if it is God’s holy Word, why 
should I and every priest of our Church warn 
our flock against it as if it were deadly poison? 
I suppose Luther’s Bible is poison, but we don’t 
want them to have even our own Douay with 
the imprimatur of the archbishop. The saints 
help me, I’m in a muddle.” 


Interesting Discoveries. 


37 


Soon as the preacher began to read the chap- 
ter, the young lady sitting next to the priest 
handed him her Bible opened at the proper 
place. While listening to the exposition he 
observed that the margin of the book in his 
hand was peculiarly marked and covered with 
written notes, criticisms, and explanations. 
Lines of ink radiated from words underscored 
to words or texts of similar import. There were 
lines parallel, perpendicular, oblique, which con- 
nected the printed sentences with the written 
explanations. This oddly marked book puzzled 
the priest. He could not, just now, ask the 
young lady about it. He rightly surmised that 
she was a diligent Bible student, and that this 
crisscross marking was neither whimsical nor 
mechanical. There was evident design and 
meaning in it all. “ It reminds me,” remarked 
he in a subdued whisper, “ of Jim Scully’s farm 
cut up with lanes, and stone walls running in 
every direction till you can scarcely see the 
little bits of fields and weeny gardens.” 

While the preacher was expounding, the 
priest was deciphering. He had observed the 
phrase in verse 1, “ peace with Grod ,” under- 
scored, and connected with verse 6, “Christ 
died for the ungodly.” The word died was 
made emphatic by double lines, and connected 


38 


Father Flynn. 


with “ atonement ” in verse 11. Opposite on the 
margin was written “ reconciliation ; see R. V 
The two capitals perplexed him, not knowing 
very much concerning the “ Revised Version.” 
Father Flynn was quick to perceive and hastily 
made this memorandum : — 

“1. Peace with God through our Lord Jesus 
Christ.” 

“ 2. Peace for the ungodly for whom Christ 
died.” 

“3. Peace the result of reconciliation with 
God.” 

“ 4. Reconciliation with God.” 

“ 5. Who are reconciled ? ” 

“ 6. How is it effected ? ” 

The latter queries were evidently for future 
consideration. So fully had Father Murty been 
occupied with these cogitations that he was 
startled by the congregation arising to sing the 
hymn announced. And this was their song 
which swelled in grand volume, thrilling him 
with its power : — 

“ From whence this fear and unbelief ? 

If God, my God, hath put to grief 
His spotless Son for me. 

Can He, the righteous Judge of men, 

Condemn me for that debt of sin, 

Which, Lord, was charged on thee ? 


Interesting Discoveries. 


39 


Complete atonement Thou hast made, 

And to the utmost farthing paid 
Whate’er thy people owed; 

How then can wrath on me take place, 

Now standing in God’s righteousness, 

And sprinkled by Thy blood? 

If Thou hast my discharge procured, 

And freely in my place endured 
The whole of wrath divine, 

Payment God will not twice demand, 

First at my bleeding Surety’s hand 
And then again at mine. 

Turn then, my soul, unto thy rest; 

The merits of thy great High Priest 
Speak Peace and Liberty ; 

Trust in His efficacious blood, 

Nor fear thy banishment from God, 

Since Jesus died for thee.” 

We have before intimated that the priest was 
in a very susceptible state of mind. Surely the 
Holy Spirit was graciously leading him to a 
full knowledge of salvation. This hymn drove 
the nail of truth deeper into his soul. A con- 
viction stronger than human persuasion had 
taken hold upon him — the conviction that the 
sacrifice of Christ was wickedly nullified by the 
sacrifice of the mass. He had previously been 
aware of many wrongs and abuses committed 
in the name and for the sake of the Church, 


40 


Father Flynn. 


but with intenser light breaking in upon his 
mind he began to perceive doctrinal errors, as 
well as moral evils, needing reform. How 
many thousands of conscientious Romanists in 
all ages have hoped to reform the Church while 
as yet not having the Rock of Salvation beneath 
their own feet. Until the sinner has been re- 
leased from the just claims of God’s righteous 
law through the redemption that is in Christ 
Jesus, he can do little toward effecting the 
freedom of others. They must themselves 
withdraw from a false system before they can 
draw others to the true Saviour. 

The sermon which followed the hymn last 
sung was a very plain unembellished presenta- 
tion of “ the old, old story,” the glad tidings of 
salvation. There were no flights of fancy, no 
poetic effusions, no rhetorical flourishes. The 
preacher was too much in earnest. Souls to 
him were trembling on the edge of awful, 
irretrievable doom ; why, then, should he sport 
with them or play the fool? Would he dare 
to distract their attention from the Cross of 
Christ in order to attract to himself by petty 
jugglery ? No, the evangelist felt the gravity of 
the occasion ; else how could he give account to 
God should any soul be lost through his flippancy 
or vanity ? The message of salvation was de- 


Interesting Discoveries. 


41 


livered in terse Anglo-Saxon, the most powerful 
vehicle which an English speaker can possibly 
employ for the communication of thought to 
his hearers. The priest, who had studied the 
arts of the rhetorician, expected outbursts of 
impassioned appeal, strong denunciation and 
startling climax ; instead, he heard bold, calm, 
earnest, intelligent language presenting the 
weightiest matters which can possibly occupy 
the human mind or fall from human lips. The 
preacher seemed surcharged with his theme ; he 
was visibly affected during its delivery. While 
avoiding the rant of sensationalism he was far 
removed from the chilling frostiness of the aes- 
thetic essayist. The text was selected from 
the chapter previously read. “ Therefore being 
justified by faith we have peace with God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5 : 1). 

“ Peace with God,” said the preacher, “ is a 
privilege enjoyed only by those who have been 
reconciled to God through the death of His 
Son ; who are now justified in the sight of God, 
standing in heaven’s court of equity, not in the 
filthy rags of their own imperfect righteousness, 
but in the peerless robe of Christ’s perfect 
righteousness. For this righteousness is unto 
all, and upon all them who by faith receive 
Christ. His all-sufficient merit is imputed to 
every soul trusting in Him alone for salvation. 


42 


Father Flynn. 


“ The previous chapters prove two great 
incontrovertible facts : — 

“ 1. That no sinner is justified before God 
by self-righteousness ; that is, by personal merit. 
2. That all who appropriate Christ by faith 
are justly acquitted from every charge of guilt, 
because He died for the ungodly, so that who- 
soever believeth on Him immediately receives 
the remission of sins. Thus absolution from sin 
is complete. The blood of Jesus Christ cleans- 
eth from all sin. There is, therefore, now no 
judgment for them that are in Christ. And much 
more, being now justified by His blood, we shall 
be saved from wrath through Him. The justi- 
fication of the sinner looking by faith to Christ 
only, who gave His life for ours, is an undoubt- 
ed fact , according to the infallible testimony of 
the sacred Scriptures. And therefore having 
been justified we enter into peace with God. 
Peace has been purchased for us by the blood 
of the cross. We should, therefore, enter into 
the joyful assurance of it as our present pos- 
session. The peace of a tranquilized conscience 
is our inalienable right. It is consequent on 
the apprehension of the truth, that our contro- 
versy is ended with God, for Christ hath made 
reconciliation between God and us, so that we 
now have peace with God through our Lord 
Jesus Christ. 


Interesting Discoveries . 


43 


“ Many emblems have been employed to illus- 
trate the peaceful state of that soul which has 
found its rest in Christ. It has been represent- 
ed as the still music of a holy soul ; the calm 
sunset of a summer’s sabbath ; the quiet, majes- 
tic flow of the broad and deep river. Peace is 
love reposing, love in the green pastures, love 
beside the still waters. It is the calm, after a 
storm. The sinner sees the frowning law now 
wear a smile, and stern justice beam with pleas- 
ure, the atoning sacrifice of Christ Jesus having 
satisfied every claim of law and paid every 
demand of justice. Friends,” continued the 
preacher, in earnest, tender tones, “ peace with 
God has been made for us by our blessed Sav- 
iour ; let us therefore now, to-day, at once, enter 
into its present enjoyment. This is our heri- 
tage, our unspeakable privilege. 

‘ A mind at perfect peace with God — 

Oh I what a word is this: 

A sinner reconciled through blood — 

This, this indeed is peace.’ ” 

“ Beautiful, beautiful,” exclaimed the ardent 
priest, loud enough to be heard by those in his 
immediate neighborhood. He had been en- 
chained a captive listener by the simple recital 
of that old , old story which possesses a charm 


44 


Father Flynn. 


for the perturbed soul beyond all novelties, all 
philosophies, and all religions, whether ancient 
or modern. Father Flynn was making dis- 
coveries; other disclosures, perhaps, awaited 
him. 


CHAPTER V. 


TRY OR TRUST? 

Two simple words characterize the experi- 
ences of all persons who are piously inclined : 
“ Try ” and “ Trust.” “ Try ” is of doubtful 
quantity ; it implies incompleteness, dissatis- 
faction, discouragement. “ Trust ” is confiden- 
tial, restful, assured. “ Try ” is cumbered with 
duties, observances, tasks attempted but never 
done. “ Trust ” rises into an atmosphere of 
faith, hope, love ; good works follow as the 
train of cars is drawn by the powerful engine. 
“Try” is restless, feverish, moved or arrested 
by moods and feelings. “ Trust ” is peaceful, 
going out of self to God from whom cometh 
salvation and strength ; for he who would 
obtain salvation must have his heart fixed, 
trusting in the Lord. The Bible, with its 
index-finger, ever points to Jesus, announcing, 
like the Baptist, “Behold the Lamb of God 
which taketh away the sin of the world.” It 
is by this testimony of the divine Word the 
Christian believer is persuaded. He heeds its 


46 


Father Flynn . 


admonition, 44 Trust ye in the Lord for ever, for 
in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength;” 
he has an experience of its assurance, 44 Thou 
wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is 
stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee ” 
(Isaiah 26 : 3, 4). 

Father Flynn, like others awakened to a 
sense of spiritual need, resolved within him- 
self that he would hereafter try to do better, 
both as a man and as a priest. He had not as 
yet learned the gospel secret of trust, for he had 
not yet known the Lord. How easy to trust 
in Him when He becomes known to the soul ! 
44 They that know thy Name shall put their 
trust in Thee ; ” that Name given among men 
whereby we are saved; the Name represented 
as a strong tower, into which the righteous 
enter for salvation. Now this faith of the 
heart in the Son of God who loved us, and 
gave Himself for us, necessarily excludes faith 
in any other person or thing. What a vast dif- 
ference between the answer of Paul to the 
inquiry 44 Sirs, what must I do to be saved ? ” 
and that given by every Roman Catholic priest. 
Paul promptly responded, 44 Believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ,” but Father Flynn would have 
said, 44 We will give you a penance to do ; repeat 
the seven penitential Psalms twice a day for a 


Try or Trust? 


47 


month, or a litany to the blessed Virgin or to 
the saints once a day for a week, and come to 
me again, and I will say ego absolvo te 1 over 
you.” The fact that he had frequently given 
this advice, not because it was a conviction felt 
in his own heart, but that it was part of his 
priestly training, recurred to his mind even 
while listening to the sermon. The thought 
overwhelmed him with a sense of fear that he 
had been misleading souls, and was not entirely 
free from their blood. Yet what could he have 
done? He must be faithful to the tenets of 
the Church; how dare he suggest his own 
opinions ? What right had he to private judg- 
ment ? The Church denied this right to all her 
children, of course, for their spiritual good (!). 
So he reasoned; nevertheless conscience was 
busy, and he felt troubled. He therefore set 
himself to listen more carefully and critically 
to the sermon. 

The preacher went on : “ Man’s moral nature 
is distorted, his judgment perverted, his will 
rebellious. Sin, that spreading leprosy of the 
soul, cleaves to him ; God’s violated law hurls 
its curse at him ; justice with drawn sword as 
the lawful avenger of blood pursues him. He 
looks around ; but the world — neither its 


1 1 absolve you. 


48 


Father Flynn . 


religions nor its philosophies provide him with 
a refuge ; he looks within and finds conscience 
awake with terror ; he looks beneath and sees the 
yawning grave ready to receive his corruptible 
body and hell prepared to engulf his infected 
soul. He dare not look up to meet those eyes 
of flame which search into every hidden motive 
and secret thought. He strongly feels the 
unchallenged truth of the statement, 4 There is 
no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.’ Have 
you ever stood by the sea and watched the 
angry waves break upon the shore, flinging the 
loosened mire upon the beach? Such is the 
scriptural figure of man’s sinful heart. ‘ The 
wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot 
rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.’ If, 
then, the sinner is in rebellion, and his nature is 
corrupt, why does not the holy God, whose arm 
is everlasting strength, smite the world at a blow, 
and crush out of the universe this ungodly race? 
He purged the earth of old when all flesh had 
become corrupt. Why does he not arise again 
and shake terribly the earth ? Oh ! my hearers, 
this he will do in the great day of his vengeance : 
but, know this, that the longsuffering of God 
is salvation. He willeth not the death of a 
sinner ; he delayeth the day of execution, 
while calling sinners to repentance. Hear him 


Try or Trust? 


49 


declare: 4 For I know the thoughts that I think 
towards you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace 
and not of evil.’ 

44 Oh, ye children of men, can this be really 
so ? Can He, the great God, release the sinner 
from every charge of guilt, and remain faithful 
to righteousness and truth ? Shall He sacrifice 
His holiness in order to save the guilty ? Must 
He set aside every claim of law and justice 
when He offers free and full pardon to trans- 
gressors ? Can he modify the rigor of the law, 
and bend its straight lines to accommodate the 
defaulter ? If so, is He not in partnership with 
sin? How then can He uphold His glorious 
throne and government in righteousness ? ” 

Father Flynn heaved a long pent-up sigh as 
this final question reached him. He had been 
listening with absorbing attention, and feared 
the preacher had gone beyond his depths in 
raising these bold questions ; how shall he re- 
ply to them ? The priest did not know that the 
simplest child of faith could answer them ; that 
the young lady by his side had mastered them. 
His own ignorance was the sad result of Rome’s 
false teaching ; he had been deluded by her 
anti-scriptural doctrines of salvation. He still 
fixed his eyes on the evangelist, who con- 
tinued : — 


50 


Father Flynn. 


44 What, then, is the ground of the sinner’s 
pardon and peace with God? We have no 
doubtful answer at hand. The enigma is solved. 
‘Being justified by faith we have peace with 
God through our Lord Jesus Christ.’ Justi- 
fied? oh, wondrous fact! Justification is not 
only accounting just, but proving just or inno- 
cent. Yet no sinner is personally innocent or 
free from sin ; he is proved just, however, 
through the law of substitution, and through 
union with his substitute. The Lord Jesus 
Christ is that Substitute. He, the Son of God, 
became the Son of Mary. Born of a woman 
He became Man. Upon him personally the law 
had no claims ; for Him justice had no threats, 
yet He bore the law’s dread curse, and justice 
plunged her sword into His sinless heart. Now 
is fulfilled that word : 4 He that is surety for a 
stranger shall smart for it.’ Jesus became the 
sinner’s Surety ; therefore, wrote evangelical 
Isaiah, 4 He was wounded for our transgres- 
sions ; He was bruised for our iniquities ; the 
chastisement of our peace was laid upon Him.’ 
And faithful Paul responds, 4 He was made a 
curse for us ; ’ 4 He became sin for us who knew 
no sin,’ 4 He loved me and gave Himself for 
me/ 

44 God’s holy violated law demanded life for 


Try or Trust ? 


51 


life, tooth for tooth, eye for eye. Jesus willing- 
ly yielded up His unforfeited life to the law in 
order to redeem our forfeited lives. Justice 
demanded payment of the sin-debt incurred 
by us, which debt our blessed Surety paid. 
Does justice still demand? Nay, not twice; 

i First at my Surety’s bleeding hand 
And then again at mine 9 

4 God commendeth His love towards us in 
that while we were yet sinners Christ died for 
us.’ Who, then, are those benefited by His 
death? Believers only. For ‘to him that 
worketh not, but belie veth on Him that justi- 
fieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for right- 
eousness? 4 Hear this, ye heavens, and be 
astonished, O earth,’ that rebels against the 
majesty of heaven may become reconciled to 
God, being justified through the redemptive 
work of our Lord Jesus Christ. The rebellion 
is now ended, the enmity in the believer’s heart 
is removed, the accuser is silenced, the law is 
magnified, justice is satisfied, truth is vindi- 
cated, and mercy is triumphant. 4 Mercy and 
truth have met together, righteousness and 
peace have kissed each other.’ Pardon and 
peace are therefore the purchased heritages of 
the believing soul ; pardon through the blood 


52 


Father Flynn . 


of Christ, and peace with God. Yes, Christ 
made peace by His own blood, and now peace 
is preached to them that are afar off, and 
to them that are nigh. 

“ 4 Have you made your peace with God ? ’ 
was the question asked by a clergyman of a 
dying parishioner. 4 No, sir,’ gasped the sick 
man, 4 but Christ made peace for me, and I am 
satisfied.’ Think of this, ye desponding ones 
who toil in vain, seeking to procure peace by 
holy deeds, religious duties, penance, mortifica- 
tions, fasts, and vows. He hath made peace by 
the blood of His Cross. Not thy works, but 
Christ’s ; not thy merit, but His can entitle you 
to salvation. And ye who hope to purchase 
heaven with money hope in vain. Said Simon 
Peter to Simon Magus, 4 Thy money perish 
with thee, because thou thoughtest that the gift 
of God can be purchased with money.’ Oh, 
my friends ! do not be deceived, I entreat you. 
Liberal donations to the church, dispensations, 
party zeal, sectarian loyalty, prayers, tears, 
relics, holy medals, beads, crosses, saints, angels, 
priests, or popes can never secure to you eter- 
nal life. Take the advice of the blessed Virgin 
who said of Jesus : 4 Whatsoever He saith 
unto you, do it.’ She cannot save you ; go 
then directly to Jesus ; go to Him to-day. Hear 


Try or Trust $ 


53 


His invitation — 4 Him that cometh unto Me 
I will in no wise cast out.’ 

44 In conclusion, beware of false peace. Many 
cry 4 Peace, peace, when there is no -peace.’ 
Conscience may be lulled into a deceitful calm, 
but the great day of awakening is at hand. 
I pray you let not the devil delude you. Rend 
your heart and not your garment, and turn 
unto the Lord your God. He will have mercy 
upon you. He will abundantly pardon. Look 
to Christ immediately and look to Christ alone, 
for ‘none but Jesus, none but Jesus, can do 
helpless sinners good.’ ” 



CHAPTER VI. 


A CRISIS AT HAND. 

After the sermon the priest in an abstracted 
manner left the building, having unconsciously 
committed the blunder of pocketing the Bible 
belonging to the friendly young lady. Having 
discovered his mistake after he had reached his 
lodgings, he broke out into a tirade of abuse 
against himself thus : “ There, now, you ’ve 

done it, me fine fellow. A clergyman of the 
holy Catholic Church becoming a thief ! She 'll 
say I stole her Bible — an heretical Bible too. 
Bedad, maybe I am a heretic myself — but any- 
way, I wish I was a good Christian. I think 
I ’ll resign an’ emigrate. But, shure that ’s cow- 
ardly. No; if I get peace in me heart an’ the 
pardon of me sins, I ’ll preach it at Turf Bog. 
Whew ! think of me lord bishop coming after 
me with his threat of excommunication. Be 
the powers, here ’s her address on the fly-leaf.” 
During the soliloquy the priest was examining the 
book in his hands. “ I ’ll send it to her house 
to-morrow; meantime my lookin’ at it won’t 


A Crisis at Hand. 


55 


make it less. St. Jerome ! See the marks and 
interlineations. In faith, a female commentator, 
as sure as I ’m the born son of Timothy and 
Margaret Flynn — decent people, God rest their 
souls. Bedad, if the ould fox knew I held this 
book in me hand he ’d excommunicate me in a 
jiffy. And then, me fine fellow, how would you 
enjoy being an outcast from the Church ; a black 
sheep in the eyes of everybody. Och hone ! I 
wonder what would become of me ? ” 

During this process of reasoning and question- 
ing with himself, as his Irish tongue rattled on, 
the troubled man had been scanning some mar- 
ginal notes, when suddenly his eye fell upon a 
paragraph heavily underlined. With a degree 
of curiosity he commenced to read, while with 
deep agitation he exclaimed : “ My God and 

Saviour, are these words a temptation to entice 
me from the only true Church out of which 
there is no salvation for me immortal soul?” 
The blood mounted to his cheeks ; his face be- 
came purple with the excitement produced by 
what he read, and in blind impulse he dashed 
the book against the wall. Then he sat before 
the fire to muse. But another fire had been 
kindled in Father Flynn’s heart which he could 
not quench, and the words he had just read 
fanned the flames. He could not forget the 


56 


Father Flynn . 


written explanation of the dreadful word which 
now attended him like a good angel, though to 
his clouded and excited brain haunted him like 
a spectre. 

I subjoin the passage from John 9: 31-38: 
“ Now we know that God heareth not sinners, 
but if any man be a worshipper of God, and 
doeth his will, him he heareth. Since the world 
began was it not heard that any man opened 
the eyes of one that was born blind. If this 
man were not of God, He could do nothing. 
They answered and said unto him, Thou wast 
altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us ? 
And they cast him out. Jesus heard that they 
had cast him out ; and when He had found him 
He said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son 
of God? He answered and said, Who is he, 
Lord, that I might believe on him ? And Jesus 
said unto him, Thou hast both seen him, and it 
is He that talketh with thee. And he said, 
Lord, I believe. And he worshipped him.” 

The words, “ and they cast him out” were 
underscored, while on the margin was written, 
“excommunicated him.” This was the dread 
word which terrorized the priest. 

I beg to remind my readers of Father Flynn’s 
emotional nature. Like most of his fellow- 
countrymen he flushed with anger in a moment, 


A Crisis at Hand . 


57 


and sometimes with little cause ; the next mo- 
ment he became penitent and peaceful. So 
now, after the raging storm came a period of 
calm. He stooped for the book, when he dis- 
covered two tracts which had dropped out from 
between the leaves. 

The priest looked intently at the title of the 
first tract he had picked up.- It startled him ; 
he feared it, and yet wished to read it. But 
dare he do so ? He would not allow to himself 
that he was in the least superstitious, yet the 
innocent paper in his hand produced a strange 
mental impression ; an unknown dread of the 
future ; an expectation of bad news — perhaps 
death; his own death? He called it “a pre- 
sentiment.” 1 If he defied “ the warning,” and 
read the tract, perhaps his doom was irrevocably 
sealed. But what that expected doom was he 
could not divine. The tract looked innocent 
enough, but its title alarmed him. Was he 
ready for its full meaning in his then present 
state of mind? He looked at it again and 
questioned, W ould God preserve him from all 
evil if he read it? Had he not full freedom 

1 “ The very tendency to superstition, so marked in Irish nature, 
arises from an instinctive dislike to the narrow limitations of com- 
mon sense. It ! a characterized by a passionate yearning towards 
the vague, the mystic, the invisible, and the boundless infinite of 
the realms of imagination .”— Ancient Legends of Ireland. 


58 


Father Flynn. 


from the fear of devils and the fear of man? 
shall he be the slave of what may prove only 
a mental hallucination ? Such thoughts intrud- 
ed themselves upon him. Suddenly like a 
frightened child he rushed to his door and 
locked it, then dropped on his knees and offered 
the first extemporaneous prayer of his life. His 
supplications were fervent, his petitions urgent. 
He besought God the Father of all to show him 
mercy for Christ ’s sake ; to teach him the true 
gospel, — “ the Gospel of the Grace of God,” — 
to give him peace in his soul. And he prayed 
for courage to carry out his sense of right wher- 
ever the right would lead him. 

After this outpouring of his heart to God he 
felt greatly comforted. Nor was he alarmed 
that he had offered no petition to ' the blessed 
Virgin, nor to any saint in the calendar. It 
was not that he had purposely omitted this 
former important duty, but the agony which gave 
birth to prayer could not take other than God 
as his helper — God the Father, Son, and Holy 
Spirit. Soothed and strengthened he now took 
the tract and read it fearlessly to the end. 
That tract had a message for him ; by its means 
the crisis was fully reached. 

How wonderful are the dealings of God in 
the history of human souls ! His ways are in- 


A Crisis at Hand . 


59 


deed past finding out. The results achieved 
within the heart of Father Flynn by the little 
silent messenger are in other cases reached by 
labored argument, diligent study, close reason- 
ing, and generous reading of church history. 
His deeply rooted prejudices were pulled out 
like weeds when the ground is moistened after 
rain ; his false ideas of sin, its punishment and 
pardon ; his perverted views of God, pagan and 
blasphemous, vanished as the mists before the 
shining sun. The gospel came to him not in 
word only, but in power and in the Holy Ghost, 
as he entered into a deeper meaning of “ The 
All-Cleansing Blood,” of which the little tract 
so entitled was an exposition. 

Soon as the priest finished the reading of 
this tract he gave vent to his feelings in a long 
low whistle, while two horns of a dilemma rose 
to view. “ Be the powers,” said he, “ I ’m in 
a nice fix. I dare not allow to meself that 
this tract is heretical in its teaching. I feel 
the truth of it beyond any question. I know 
it is gospel truth. But what ’ll become of me 
now? Can I stifle me conscience, dishonor me 
manhood, and cast away me self-respect by 
turning me back on the way of life which, like 
a path of silvery light, lies before me leading 
to the paradise of God ? If I continue saying 


60 


Father Flynn. 


masses, hearing confessions, imposing penance, 
and giving absolutions, which the Lord knows 
I have no power to give, I ’ll be worse than 
Judas selling me Saviour, for a few years in the 
priestly office. But if I should publicly hint 
the good news that ‘the precious Blood of 
Christ’ is sufficient to procure absolution for 
every penitent, there would be a ruction in the 
parish, and the whole Jesuit pack would hunt 
me out of house and home.” Then, looking 
upward with clasped hands, the anxious man 
prayed, “Blessed Jesus, help me now in the 
hour of my perplexity ; befriend me in the hour 
of my great need. I want to do Thy will, 
strengthen me to obey and fulfil it. Amen.” 

The second tract lay on the table. He read 
the title : “ The only Infallible Guide — 
the Bible; The only Infallible Teacher 
— the Holy Ghost.” The reading of this 
tract proved an answer to his prayer, for he 
was further refreshed in soul and strengthened 
in the faith. A crisis in his life had been fully 
reached. 


CHAPTER VII. 


EMIGRATION: WHY AND WHEREFORE. 

Father Flynn spent the first hours of 
the morning in preparing the following letter, 
which he sent by special messenger with the 
Bible to its owner: — 


Dublin, April 6. 
To Miss Harriet Somers: — 

Madam , — I beg to apologize most sincerely 
for the blunder unconsciously committed by 
me in bringing your Bible from the place of 
worship which I left rather hurriedly last night. 
Common courtesy would have detained me 
long enough to express my thanks to you for 
your thoughtful kindness to an utter stranger, 
but, seized with a sudden impulse, I hastened 
from the building. The book, which I placed 
unthinkingly in my pocket, I discovered after 
reaching my room. Your address found on the 
fly-leaf enables me to return it. The fear of its 
permanent loss must have disturbed your mind, 
and as I now return the precious volume it is 


62 


Father Flynn. 


with every apology for the awkward mistake 
made by me, and also with many thanks for 
your gracious kindnesses, which I have fully 
appreciated. 

Madam, I am the stranger with whom you 
shared your books, and I deem it proper to 
inform you that the unintentional theft has 
produced surprising results in so short a space 
of time. Perhaps you will be additionally 
interested to learn that I am a priest of the 
Roman Catholic Church; though, perhaps, here- 
after I shall be looked upon as a reprobate. 
Although hitherto a stranger to Protestant 
doctrines, and indeed having little knowledge 
of my Protestant neighbors, I regarded them 
as I had been taught from infancy, as altogether 
outside the pale of the Church. I had not 
known till now that Christianity is more than a 
creed, and Salvation greater than church mem- 
bership. Indeed I am only beginning to see 
that my blind hatred of Protestant heretics 
cannot save me from the fires of Gehenna, nor 
my allegiance to the Catholic faith open to me 
the gates of Paradise. I wonder now why 
some good Christian did not seek to win my 
ignorant soul to grace. 

But, madam, the sermon I heard last evening, 
the prayers which were so fervently rendered, 


Emigration : Why and Wherefore. 63 


in addition to the annotations which I discovered 
in your Bible, and those portions of the book 
which I read in the solitude of my room, have 
all combined to produce within me a most radi- 
cal and agreeable change. I feel like a man 
who had been semi-conscious through physical 
weakness, once more returning to health, and 
looking upon the world around him with open 
eyes and clarified intellect. The change within 
me is so rapid, it seems as yet a dream. Yet I 
know I have now tasted the refreshing waters 
of salvation ; I have heard the clarion ring of the 
trumpet calling me to action ; I have felt the 
thrill and rush of a new life within my soul with 
its overpowering emotions of hopeful desire. 
Therefore I thirst for a deeper draught from the 
wells of God ; my heart yearns for a mightier 
inflow of this novel and luxurious experience. 
Surely this is the result of my believing “ the 
Gospel of the Grace of God.” My soul sees 
through the prison-bars of a traditional religion 
the world of libertj^ beyond, and my faith is 
even now beholding these bars shattered by a 
mighty hand. Shall I become free indeed ? 
What the future has in store for me I cannot 
now determine ; but be it dark or light, be it 
cloud or sunshine, I fain would hasten onward 
on this path of life upon which my feet are even 


64 


Father Flynn . 


now planted. I am in God’s care ; will he not 
guide me and help me ? I humbly trust my 
soul to the Redeemer of mankind. The Saviour 
is now my All, my Bishop, my Pope, my God. 

0 Jesus, never did a criminal more need par- 
don than I need it now. I look to Thy Cross, 
Thy Blood ; yes, Thy Blood which cleanseth me 
from all sin. 

Madam, forgive the length of this epistle. I 
write freely, as I am well persuaded from my 
observation of your pious behavior that you are 
a good and earnest Christian. I beg you, then, 
to intercede for me in your prayers. I want the 
intercession of such saints now. I give up pray- 
ing to the dead ; I covet the prayers of the living. 
Ecclesiastical difficulties may press upon my soul 
and severe trials await me. I feel their shadows 
haunt me. Pray God that He will keep me in 
grace that I may not lose the peace already en- 
joyed. I know you will not betray my con- 
fidence while I am as yet uncertain of my plans. 

1 freely rely on your Christian discretion, and 
beg to subscribe myself, madam, your obedient 
and unworthy servant, 

Murtagh Flynn. 

Three days after the date of this letter the 
newspapers reported the accidental drowning of 


Emigration : Why and Wherefore . 65 

Rev. Murtagh Flynn, p.p., of Turf Bog ; — his 
small boat had been found floating bottom up- 
wards a few hundred yards from the shore. But 
I can assure my readers that, even while the ex- 
cited parishioners were dragging the lake for his 
body, the gentleman himself, very much alive, in 
the guise of a business man, was treading the 
deck of an Atlantic steamer plowing her way 
through Queenstown narrows and turning her 
prow towards the land of golden sunset. 1 

Alas, indeed, is it so ? Must he thus stealth- 
ily emigrate ? Is there no safety for a Romish 
priest, if he choose to withdraw from the 
Church of his fathers? Can he not read the 
Word of God, and follow what he conceives to 
be a better way, and yet live in peace in the 
land of his nativity ? Must he, a man of unim- 
peachable integrity, within whose heart throbs 
a passion for religious freedom, flee from his 
home like a fugitive worthy of death? Yes; 
there is freedom elsewhere, but not as yet in 
Ireland. Men who change their faith in other 
lands are tolerated, be the motives honorable or 
base, but in the very land which bitterly cries for 
liberty, her own children are intolerant of those 
who truly seek it. Father Flynn often felt his 
cheeks burn with the shame of mortified pride 


1 See Appendix. 


66 


Father Flynn. 


during that voyage. He despised himself for 
acting the coward’s part ; he hated the system 
which employs the exquisite torments of an 
inquisition to degrade the most saintly char-, 
acters suspected of independent thought in 
matters of faith and creed. 

Can this indeed be the religion of Jesus ? 
Hear Him rebuke the sectarian spirit of His 
chosen disciples who sought his approval on 
their misdirected zeal. “ Master,” say they, “ we 
saw one casting out demons in Thy name, and 
we forbade him because he followeth not us.” 
And thus did the gracious Lord answer them, 
“ Forbid them not, for no man can do a miracle 
in my name, and speak lightly of me.” How 
then does the Papal Church, drunk with the 
blood of the saints and martyrs of Jesus, repre- 
sent His benignant reign ? 

We would accuse no Church falsely, but 
what is the testimony of history? When a 
Protestant is converted to the Romish faith the 
doors of welcome are thrown widely open to 
receive him, especially if the neophyte represent 
wealth or social position. They are received 
with honeyed words and honored with marked 
distinction. But when a Roman Catholic begs 
leave to pass outside the membership of his 
church, he is challenged, insulted, persecuted, 


Emigration : Why and Wherefore. 67 

degraded. He is a traitor, a heretic, an apos- 
tate, a devil. He is cursed, vilified, excom- 
municated. And forth he goes, his character 
maligned, his name blasted, his life endangered. 
Is this fair play ? Know, O my reader, that the 
Irish nature is generous, hospitable, ingenuous. 
Not from her rustic sons will any receive harm, 
until, as servants of Rome , they become excited 
with the wine of her fornications. The Italian 
hand has molded the Irish Catholic. The 
stately Apollo has become a drunken Bacchus ; 
the virus of Roman putrescence has inocu- 
lated the fair Hibernia ; the corruptions of the 
Papacy break out on the goodly seed of Erin : 
it is the mark of the Beast. 

Father Flynn determined to follow the teach- 
ings of Christ and His Apostles. He was not a 
weak character, yet he shrank from avowing his 
convictions in the open light of day. Well he 
knew that no proper hearing would be given 
him; that an immediate recantation must be 
avowed, or an irrevocable vengeful excommuni- 
cation be executed against him. He would not 
do the first ; he feared the results of the second. 
While in the prime of manhood he cared not to 
rot neglected in some inquisitorial dungeon or 
monastic cell, “ doing penance ” for believing in 
Christ, so leave Ireland he would to seek free- 
dom elsewhere. 


68 


Father Flynn . 


Standing apart from the crowd of emigrants 
on the deck of the steamer he watched the green 
fields and rugged hills of his native land fade 
away beyond the range of vision, when, with 
tender accents of suppressed emotion, he gave 
utterance to the prayer born of a sigh, “ God 
save Ireland ! ” How can he prevent the 
flowing of tears? He wept because he was 
human After awhile he sought his cabin, 
bathed his face, and returned to his isolated 
place on deck. With composed features he now 
fixed his eyes upon the western horizon as if 
seeking to decipher the problem of his future 
life. His eye is not dim, nor his natural force 
abated. His arm is strong, his heart brave ; an 
upward glance fills him with a glad hope which 
reflects itself in the sunny smile, while his lips 
speak out the assuring confession : “ O God, 
Thou art my God ; strong is Thine arm to pro- 
tect; infallible Thy word to guide. I know not 
what lies before me ; I know not where I go ; 
my purse is empty ; my knowledge of business 
limited ; but there is no future where Thou art 
not, and if I know not where I go, I know with 
Whom I go. Thy resources are like this ocean, 
boundless, illimitable ; Thine agencies of supply 
like the stormy wind or gentle zephyr blowing 
from every quarter. My heart is glad, for Thou 


Emigration : Why and Wherefore. 69 

art my Hope ; my soul shall know no widow- 
hood, for Thou art her husband. I will rejoice 
in my poverty that I may feed out of Thy 
bountiful hand ; I will lie humbly in the dust 
that I may kiss Thy feet.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A DECIDEDLY MATERIALIZED SPIRIT. 

When the shadows of night had fallen upon 
the sea, the self-exiled priest walked amid 
the living freight who occupied the steerage, 
grouped in circles, chatting, singing, and dis- 
cussing, to while away the hours. The dread- 
ful mabde-mer had not yet visited them; old 
Neptune was in a lazy mood and hastened not 
to demand tribute. The night was fine, the sea 
smooth, and none anticipated the waking from 
slumber of the unforge tful sea-god. Father 
Murty became interested in his new experi- 
ences. He explored and inspected. 

What a motley group arrested his attention: 
sturdy Cornish miners; Welsh mountaineers; 
burly farmhands from English provinces ; smil- 
ing Swedes; dark-skinned Italians, and last, 
but not least in numbers, a promiscuous crowd 
of Erin’s buoyant sons and cheerful daughters. 
The emigrants were divided into little compa- 
nies, drawn together by national and sympa- 
thetic affinities. Here is a German family: 


A Decidedly Materialized Spirit . 71 

Hans, with his big pipe, is detailing an exciting 
story to his frau about a relative who had 
made a fortune in the New World, while the 
tow-headed youngsters are huddled around the 
mother, listening to their corpulent sire grunt 
out his hopes and expectations of vast wealth. 
Leaning against the railing is a group of young 
Swedes who carry on their courtship in doubles, 
with rustic simplicity and unmasked affection. 
The Italians, who are few in number, smoke 
their Neapolitan cigars in silence ; while from 
the various circles of Hibernians we hear the 
sharp sally, the native wit, the boisterous laugh- 
ter. Naturally the priest gravitated towards 
his own people. He deeply felt for the old 
men and haggard women who were forced by 
stern necessity to leave their humble cabins 
and seek bread under other skies. 

“ Pity,” said he, “ they should not end their 
days in the place so dearly loved and made 
doubly sacred by the graves in the old church- 
yard. As for the young people,” he added, 
“what could they do at home, especially in 
those congested cities, or unproductive districts 
where living is at best but a famishing exist- 
ence? Therefore, ’t is a good move for the 
young; they’ll soon forget the troubles and 
trials which persistently stick to the ould sod. 


72 


Father Flynn. 


The aldermen and mayors of great cities are 
made out of this kind of material. If the ras- 
cally Jesuits and their false religion don’t spoil 
them by making them hostile to Americans 
and American institutions, I see before me, in 
blood, bone, and sinew, material for a great 
country of illimitable resources.” His solilo- 
quy was not heeded, for those nearest him were 
facing the other way, reaching forward with 
evident eagerness. A matronly woman was 
holding the listeners spellbound by the recital 
of a very thrilling tale. As she sat on some 
deck-gear, Father Flynn stood on tiptoe to get 
a sight of her face, if possible ; all the more 
eager as he overheard the startling news : — 

“Last Monday thin it happened, glory be to 
God! He was in Dublin for a few days and 
came home, but did n’t officiate on Sunday, he 
not being well, an’ havin’, I’ve been tould, a 
great throuble on his mind. Monday morning 
Mike McCarthy saw him go to’rds the lake an’ 
that’s the last was seen of him alive. Mike 
says he kept lookin’ on the ground wid his face 
as pale as a ghost.” 

“ An’ whisper, Peggy,” asked a rapt listener, 
“ did they find the corpse ? ” 

“ Divil a corpse,” replied Peggy, “ up to the 
time I left yesterday. God forgive me for that 


A Decidedly Materialized Spirit. 78 

same word, for he was kind to everybody ; he 
would n’t harm chick nor child.” 

“Well, it bates all,” added an old boycotted 
farmer; “but I can’t see how a consecrated 
priest could be drowndid. It bates Banagher 
entirely.” 

“ Maybe he ’s only dove down to see after 
things in Purgatory,” broke in a young Mickie 
who had become skeptical on the existence of 
this theological limbo ; “ some of them people are 
hard to get out ; ” saying which, he gave the 
pretty girl by his side a squeeze which made 
her shriek ; whereupon the older people harshly 
rebuked the jester for his blasphemy, one man 
calling him a “ young villain,” while a withered 
granny charged him with being a “ turncoat 
souper.” 1 

Meanwhile Peggy informed each newcomer 
of Father Flynn’s accidental drowning I she 
with her daughter Tilly having just come from 
the parish of Turf Bog. As she again enlarged 
on Mike McCarthy’s description of the priest, 
who had the honored distinction of seeing him 
last alive, a sailor on duty walking past let fall 
the light of a ship’s lantern full on Father 

1 A. term of contempt given to those who withdraw from the 
Roman Catholic Church. Many poor people received charity in 
the form of soup in the years of famine. This was supposed to 
influence them towards Protestantism. 


74 


Father Flynn . 


Flynn’s countenance. At that instant Peggy’s 
eyes were in the priest’s direction, whose feat- 
ures had suddenly gleamed with awful distinct- 
ness. A wild scream startled the emigrants as 
the woman shrieked : — 

“ Oh ! wirra, wirra, holy Mary, mother of 
God, ’t was himself! Oh, oh! St. Joseph, St. 
Bridget, and all ye saints purtect me, for I ’ve 
seen the face of the dead. Oh ! wirra, wirra, 
his handsome face lookin’ into me two eyes. 
Oh ! good people all, did n’t ye see him lookin’ 
at me over Jim Downey’s shoulder?” The 
terrified Jim instantly looked around, but the 
ghostly visitor had slipped away to the solitude 
of his own cabin. Peggy did not faint; nature 
had not cast her in so fine a mold, nor allowed 
her in the onward stages of physical develop- 
ment to lapse into delicacy. She had great 
vigor of mind and body, and occasionally 
became violently passionate. She now raved, 
tore her hair, became hysterical, beat her breast 
while her eyes danced wildly in her blanched 
and bloodless face, still praying incoherently 
and predicting with vehement language that 
they were all going to the bottom of the deep. 

“What is it at all?” inquired a young 
woman, who rushed from her lover to the scene 
of confusion. “ What ails the poor crayther ? ” 


75 


A Decidedly Materialized Spirit. 

she asked, as she looked pityingly on the terrified 
Peggy? who ceased not to invoke the protection 
of God and the saints from the ghost of 44 the 
drowndid priest.” The Irish emigrants, who 
had been listening to Peggy, were now seized 
with a panic of fear, and but few dared express 
the hope that the ghost of a holy father was 
sent as a good omen of a prosperous voyage . 1 

44 God be good to us all,” said Jimmy 
McBride, as he gave his version of the story to 
a questioning group of fresh inquirers ; 44 he 
was drowndid in a lake, an’ he came up 
through the say. There must be a big tunnel 
under the world.” 

44 Did you see him, Jimmy ? ” inquired Patsy 
Dineen. # 

44 Faix, that I did,” replied the lying Jimmy, 
who began to feel self-important in the eyes of 
his eager listeners, and in order to maintain his 
newly acquired fame gave free reins to his 
fevered fancy and Irish tongue. 44 You see,” 
continued the imperturbable Jimmy, 44 the holy 


i“ Ireland is a land of mists and mystic shadows; of cloud- 
wraiths on the purple mountains; of weird silences in the lonely 
hills, and fitful skies, of deepest gloom alternating with gorgeous 
sunset splendors. All this fantastic caprice of an ever-varying 
atmosphere stirs the imagination, and makes the Irish people 
strangely sensitive to spiritual influences. They see visions and 
dream dreams, and are haunted at all times by an ever-present fear 
Of the supernatural.” — Lady Wilde. 


76 


Father Flynn. 


father was a great angler [of which same holy 
father Jimmy had never heard before], an’ bein’ 
ion:: of the SDort he went out with his rod to 
Lough Coppel. Well, he made a cast, when in 
a minute a bouncer of a salmon le’p’d for the tail 
fly. 4 Bedad ! he missed,’ says the priest ; 4 but 
I ’ll get you yet, me boy,’ says he, as he threw 
again as purty a cast as you ever saw over the 
swirl where me whopper struck the surface. 
4 Aha, maybe I ’ll get you? says a voice out in 
the lake. The priest had n’t a chance to cross 
himself, his two hands being on the rod, and he 
being that anxious to hook the salmon threw 
again, when, tare an’ ages ! the rod was whipped 
out of his hands, and he was dragged down into 
the pool, and that was the last seen of him till 
to-night.” 

44 Jimmy, you ’re a big thief to belie God’s 
minister who has the power over all evil an’ 
could n’t be harmed,” protested Matt Doran. 
44 Besides, Jimmy,” added Matt, 44 how do you 
know what was said or what happened at Lough 
Coppel ? Come, now, answer me that.” 

44 Good for you, Matt,” chimed in several, 
who, turning to Jimmy, demanded an explana- 
tion. 

Cool as a cucumber, and ready as water to 
flow down hill, the unabashed Jimmy gravely 


A Decidedly Materialized Spirit. 77 

explained : “ Boys, his ghost tould me the 
whole story there bey ant the gangway awhile 
ago. I used to hear my father say that Lough 
Coppel was a short cut to glory, an’ the blessid 
priest being ripe for heaven, the good people 
[the fairies] carried him to his long home.” 

The introduction of ghost-stories or fairy- 
tales is not difficult among Irish peasants. Any 
unusual occurrence in a community will revive 
the legends of that locality. A sudden death, 
a fright, funeral, or shipwreck will give occasion 
for the repetition of superstitious lore. Some 
of these are beautifully pathetic. Ghosts and 
priests were now discussed on deck, Tommy 
Sullivan capping the climax by reciting from 
memory the following story of “A Woman’s 
Curse ” : — 

“ There was a woman of the island of Innis- 
Sark who was determined to take revenge on a 
man because he called her by an evil name. 
So she went to the Saints’ Well, and kneeling 
down, she took some of the water and poured 
it on the ground in the name of the devil, say- 
ing, 4 So may my enemy be poured out like 
water, and lie helpless on the earth ! ’ Then 
she went round the well backwards on her 
knees, and at each station she cast a stone in 
the name of the devil, and said, ‘ So may the 


78 


Father Flynn. 


curse fall on him, and the power of the devil 
crush him ! ’ After this she returned home. 

“ Now the next morning there was a stiff 
breeze, and some of the men were afraid to go 
out fishing ; but others said they would try 
their luck, and amongst them was the man on 
whom the curse rested. But they had not gone 
far from land when the boat was capsized by a 
heavy squall. The fishermen, however, saved 
themselves by swimming to shore ; all except 
the man on whom the curse rested, and he sank 
like lead to the bottom, and the waves covered 
him, and he was drowned. 

“ When the woman heard of the fate that 
had befallen her enemy, she ran to the beach 
and clapped her hands with joy and exulted. 
And as she stood there laughing with strange 
and horrid mirth, the corpse of the man she 
had cursed slowly rose up from the sea, and 
came drifting towards her till it lay almost at 
her very feet. On this she stooped down to 
feast her eyes on the sight of the dead man, 
when suddenly a storm of wind screamed past 
her and hurled her from the point of rock 
where she stood. And when the people ran in 
all haste to help, no trace of her body could be 
seen. The woman and the corpse of the man 
she had cursed disappeared together under the 


A Decidedly Materialized Spirit. 79 

waves, and were never seen again from that 
time forth.” 

The dread which this narrative produced on 
the listeners found vent in pious ejaculations. 
Even as they dispersed to their respective bunks 
they were still exclaiming, “ Glory be to the 
Lord ; ” “ The Lord preserve us from all harm ; ” 
“ May the Mother of God keep us.” More fer- 
vent still were the prayers offered throughout 
the night. Neptune was on board exacting 
tribute. 


CHAPTER IX. 


KLEEROS AND LAOS. 

It has been remarked by thoughtful writers 
from age to age that the Irish peasantry are an 
anomalous race. Endowed with natural mental 
alertness they yet remain babes in knowledge ; 
very reverent, but grossly superstitious ; singu- 
larly credulous, yet absurdly suspicious ; scrupu- 
lously conscientious, though curiously prejudiced 
against payment of just debts ; peaceable as 
neighbors till stirred by passion, when revenge 
is sweet ; pure in morals, with a fervid imagina- 
tion and an unbridled tongue. How far all 
this discord of noble natures is a national char- 
acteristic, or how much of it is the outcome of 
Rome’s doctrines and policies which for centuries 
have inoculated the Irish race, is a question I 
leave to the philosopher and the moralist. But 
this much we add, that while Rome ostensibly 
favors education through her schools, she per- 
verts and stultifies the intellect through her 
priests. The Bible which is for all men is either 
forbidden or mistaught. It is not the daily 


Kleeros and Laos. 


81 


companion of the people ; their way is blocked 
to this reservoir of knowledge. Like the Phari- 
sees of old, the Pope’s agents lock this door of 
knowledge ; they will not enter themselves, and 
those who would they hinder. A notable illus- 
tration of Rome’s antagonism to the Holy Scrip- 
tures has been the recent decision to place La- 
sare’s beautiful French translation upon the In- 
dex Expurgatorius, although having the approv- 
al of that astute Pope, Leo XIII. We rejoice, 
however, that notwithstanding Jesuitical watch- 
fulness, thousands of the Irish people are now 
reading the Word of God for themselves. 

But to resume. While the emigrants were 
excitedly discussing their ghostly visitor, Bishop 
O’Dowd sat in his library, with face paler than 
usual, his thin lips compressed, while his pierc- 
ing black eyes flashed with rage. He was evi- 
dently laboring under deep excitement. The 
cause of it lay before him — a letter, bearing the 
postmark “ Queenstown.” The bishop took the 
offending missive in his trembling hand, and 
with the brief prefatory remark : “The black- 
hearted Protestant devil,” he read it again. 

To The Right Rev. Bishop O’Dowd: — 

My Lord Bishop , — Before leaving the land 
of my fathers it is due to you that I should ap- 


82 


Father Flynn. 


prise you of my departure from Turf Bog, in 
order that you may have the earliest opportunity 
of making suitable provision for the supply of 
the parish where I served under your jurisdic- 
tion during the past six years, and which I now 
resign into your hands. My resignation in this 
manner may appear in your eyes, and in the 
eyes of the world, hasty, dishonorable, and cow- 
ardly, but I am only too well acquainted with 
the policy of the Church which perverts justice 
in dealing with those of her priests who can no 
longer conscientiously minister at her altar. 
While ignorant of “ the Gospel of the Grace of 
God ” I served her interests as one of her true 
sons ; with opened eyes and better understand- 
ing of her damnable doctrines and corrupt 
practices I could no longer continue a deceiver 
of her people. I did not immediately apprise 
you of the great mental and spiritual change 
which I have recently experienced, as I feared 
your anger and dreaded your power, nor will I 
breathe the air of freedom until the wide ocean 
rolls between us. 

During the past few years I could not under- 
stand why a professedly pure Church should 
maintain so tricky an ecclesiastic as yourself 
who winks at the sins of many of her priests, of 
which you are so well aware. Religion I re- 


Kleeros and Laos. 


83 


garded from childhood as a sacred thing, mak- 
ing its followers pure in heart and holy in life. 
It often goaded me nigh to madness, and drove 
me to the verge of despair, to observe the schem- 
ing, lying, dishonesty, and immorality practised 
by leading ecclesiastics in the name of the 
Church. How often have I heard you say that 
you hated Protestants for the glory of God. 
Were I not an Irishman I would possibly have 
become an infidel. But happily there is in our 
nature a reverence for holy things and a deeply 
rooted faith in the supernatural. To believe 
unquestioningly, to trust implicitly, is character- 
istic of our race. Only when our nature is 
drugged by false creeds and insincere leaders, 
do we, in weak moments, lose our mental 
balance. It is then we are exposed to the subtle 
influences of skepticism, which sears the con- 
science while it perverts the intellect and cor- 
rupts the affections. Mercifully has God pre- 
served me from this hell on earth by permitting 
me to hear and believe the simple gospel of 
Jesus Christ. I now read the Bible ; I believe 
its inspired statements, accept its gracious invi- 
tations, and trust implicitly in its assuring 
promises. I must believe that Christ, my divine 
Lord, is an all-sufficient Saviour. If so, is it not 
blasphemy to belittle His saving power in seek- 


84 


Father Flynn. 


ing the mediation of the Virgin or the interces- 
sion of the saints ? The Blood of the adorable 
Redeemer is now my plea ; His cross is my 
glory; His absolution is my salvation. I wish 
to follow Him fully ; to be free from every in- 
fluence which would prevent me from the study 
of the Bible ; to guard my conscience from false- 
hood and my life from insincerity. You know 
I could not be a sincere follower of Christ while 
a priest of Rome ; you , on knowing my purpose 
to give God’s Word to the people, would be the 
first to weave a net around my feet from which 
I could not escape; every Jesuit agent under 
your instructions would hound me to death. I 
own I have neither the grace nor the devotion 
of a martyr, but though I flee like a fugitive, I 
have done violence to no man nor taken aught 
belonging to others. The chapel, rectory, and 
other property of the Church will be found duly 
cared for ; my housekeeper will resign the keys 
to your messenger. 

Finally and frankly, I can hardly expect you 
to think of me with charity. The Papal system 
finds in you its willing tool, yet I beg of you to 
remember that there are men who have convic- 
tions of right and duty who are neither traitors 
to religion nor blasphemers against God. May 
the blessed Holy Spirit who has given me an 


Kleeros and Laos. 


85 


enlarged vision of God’s boundless mercy in 
Jesus Christ enlighten your heart that you may 
seek His grace now and enjoy His glory here- 
after, is the earnest prayer of your servant, for 
Christ’s sake, 

Murtagh Flynn. 

This extraordinary document had already 
filled the irritable bishop with rage. After this 
second reading he flung it on the table, hissing 
through his teeth with passionate emphasis the 
spiteful malediction, “ The black-hearted Prot- 
estant devil ! ” 

The intense hate /which filled the heart of 
O’Dowd when he discovered that one of his 
own priests had access to the Bible can hardly 
be understood by persons unacquainted with 
Catholic policy. 

The late Dr. Doyle, one of the most learned 
of the Romish hierarchy in Ireland, wrote of a 
man who had received a Bible from a lady: 
“When the night closed in and all danger of 
detection was removed, he, lest he should be 
infected with heresy inhaled from the Protest- 
ant Bible during his sleep, took it with a tongs, 
for he would not defile his touch with it, and 
buried it in a grave he had prepared in the gar- 
den.” The doctor then adds : “ I, who am thus 


86 


Father Flynn. 


a very Bible-man, do admire the orthodoxy of 
this Kildare peasant ; nay, I admire it greatly, 
and should I happen to meet him I shall reward 
him for his zeal.” Another servant of Rome 
said in an address against the Bible Society : 
“ Therefore I conclude that the indiscriminate 
perusal of the Bible is inconsistent with the sanc- 
tity of the Church, and, as I have in another 
part of my discourse suggested, it opens the flood- 
gates to immorality and vice. Further, this prin- 
ciple leaves men to die in infidelity .” But the 
Bible cannot be chained. Even now it marches 
through Ireland and other priest-ridden countries 
victorious in its might. Shall not Irish priests 
in greater numbers become free men through its 
hallowed teaching? We await the advent of 
that hour when Ireland’s sons and daughters 
will forsake their childish superstitions, en- 
lightened and ennobled by the glorious gospel 
of the blessed God. 

Having renounced Popery, Father Flynn 
abjured his priestly office. He wished now to 
fallback a layman into the privacy of unofficial 
life. He had not known at this time that the 
classification of Christians into clergy and laity 
was anti-scriptural. The Bible teaches the 
co-equality of all believers : all are brethren in 
Christ ; all are fellow-heirs of salvation ; all 


Kleeros and Laos. 


87 


belong to the royal priesthood, and all are 
equally entitled to offer up spiritual sacrifices 
to God and render service in the gospel to man. 
But all are not alike gifted to teach or preach; 
for some by natural and spiritual qualification 
are pastors ; others evangelists ; still others 
helps, governments, teachers, and interpreters 
of tongues. To the Church there has been 
given a diversified ministry for her extension 
and edification. The only place in the New 
Testament where the word clergy is found is in 
1 Peter 5: 8: “Neither as being lords over 
God’s heritage [clergy from Kleeros , lot or 
allotment], but being ensamples to the flock.” 
The flock, commonly called the laity, are really 
the clergy , over whom the elders, or official 
brethren who are responsible for the oversight 
of the assembly, should not domineer. The 
context teaches that the elders must set an 
example to the flock, ruling in the fear of the 
Lord, not by constraint, but willingly, not for 
filthy lucre, but of a ready mind. The shep- 
herds ought to care for the flock with affection- 
ate regard, and not rule them with fear. The 
Ecclesia, which comprises only regenerated per- 
sons, is a select company — a heritage, or lot, 
separated from the world by the dividing line 
of spiritual birthright. But when the pro- 


88 


Father Flynn. 


fessing Church grasped at worldly enthrone- 
ment, those who were chosen to administer her 
affairs began to separate themselves from their 
fellow-Christians of less gift and more private 
capacity. Then did they arrogate to them- 
selves the distinction of clergy by assuming 
that they only were the special Kleeros , or heri- 
tage, while the others were laos, the people. 
From the supposed sanctity which belonged to 
the clerical office a middle wall of partition was 
gradually built between these two classes. 
Soon after the rise of this schism there fol- 
lowed the introduction of badges, robes, and 
regalia whereby the clergy might be publicly 
recognized and duly honored. Hypocrisy was 
further engendered by the adoption of a seem- 
ing sanctity which enveloped them in its mystic 
atmosphere. Alas ! too often this saintliness 
consisted only of cloth and appearance. Robes 
covered rottenness; ghostly countenances 
masked carnal lives; sanctimoniousness was 
the whitewash on the moral sepulchre, the 
paint and powder over the leprosy of vice. 

But Father Murty, not understanding his 
relation to “the royal priesthood,” renounced 
his official priesthood with no small degree of 
mental conflict. He knew as a matter of 
course the sentence of his excommunication 


Kleeros and Laos . 


89 


would have been speedily published from every 
Roman altar throughout Bishop O’Dowd’s dio- 
cese. By necessity therefore, as well as by 
choice, he takes rank as a layman. Therefore, 
also, he must look, live, dress, and act in laity 
fashion. And so, in consonance with his repu- 
diation of the priestly office, we also drop the 
priestly title and know him henceforth as Mr. 
Murtagh Flynn. 


CHAPTER X. 


CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED. 

Mr. Murtagh Flynn had provided him- 
self with an ordinary business suit which set 
off his rotund form in good shape. He had 
seriously pondered the question of remaining a 
shaveling or • becoming a bearded pard. On 
this he decided by a sort of compromise in the 
adoption of a mustache. The ship’s barber 
laid out the ground, and the patch left un- 
touched by the razor, being thickly seeded, 
sprouted rankly ; his appearance, therefore, on 
arrival at port was pugnacious. The mustache 
was harsh, stubby, rowdyish, and only on close 
view could the playful mouth and kindly eye 
be observed which advertised his genial and 
honest nature. 

Murtagh lost no time in idle dreaming. The 
third day after his arrival found him seeking 
employment. He entered a clothing store, when 
a person of Jewish aspect with an eye for busi- 
ness saluted him. 

“ Yell, you vants a shuit?” 


Cast Down, but Not Destroyed. 91 

“No, I want a situation.” 

“ Oh, dot ’s it ; yell ! Misdher Schlopgoods,” 
addressing the senior partner, “ you yants dish 
man mit de board ? ” 

Mr. Schlopgoods, coming forward, offered 
Murtagh “ dhree dollar a yeek to valk de board 
mit de streets.” After full explanation from 
Messrs. Schlopgoods and Schoddy, our friend 
refused their offer with hot indignation, not 
hesitating to call them a pair of Judases. He 
had not acquired sufficient intercourse with the 
business world to convince him that the Gentile 
firm of Cheathem and Trickee, across the street, 
was not any less scrupulous in withholding law- 
ful wage from a hard-pushed breadwinner. 

Later on Murtagh read this notice on the 
window of a restaurant, “ First-class waiter 
wanted.” This, thought he, is a profession 
easy to acquire. 

“You a waither?” asked the proprietor 
after Mr. Flynn had applied for the situation. 
“ Where was ye last?” 

“ At Turf Bog, in Ireland.” 

“ Was ye a waither there ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Fhwat was ye?” 

Murtagh had not foreseen the possibility of 
such a question, but when this low-browed fel- 


92 


Father Flynn . 


low-countryman waited a reply he blurted out, 
while the blood mounted to his face, “ A Roman 
Catholic priest.” 

“ An’ have ye turned Prodishtent ? ” was the 
next query, asked with a scowl. 

“ I don’t know to what I ’ve turned, but I 
have turned away from the Catholic Church.” 

He would gladly have explained why, in 
order that he might preach the Gospel of the 
Grace of God to the ignorant Irishman before 
him, but the bigoted boor sprang upon him 
with rage and expelled him from the saloon. 
I will not outrage my readers’ sense of pro- 
priety by recording the curses which were 
hurled at our friend, who was denounced as “ a 
villainous traitor av a turncoat ; a black souper 
who sold his sowl to the divil.” Murtagh 
curbed his Irish temper with steady will; he 
had now some knowledge of the grace of Jesus 
Christ which always proves sufficient in every 
hour of temptation, and with remarkable com- 
posure philosophized thus : “ Bedad, it ’s in 
Cork I am, and not in America at all. At least 
I ’m sure that ignorant Hottentot is a Corkon- 
ian by his brogue. I have heard that the Irish 
rule New York, and I suppose this Roman 
clown is one of the rulers.” 

For many days Murtagh paced the streets 


Cast Down , but Not Destroyed. 93 

offering his services but finding no permanent 
position. Roman Catholic employers summa- 
rily dismissed him on discovering his anteced- 
ents ; some through innate hatred, others more 
liberally minded, but through fear of an eccle- 
siastical boycott, notified him that they no 
longer needed him. Protestant employers did 
not retain him on account of his limited busi- 
ness experience. 1 He was not a profitable man 
to them ; cash profits, not philanthropy, was 
their business policy. In a certain store he re- 
cognized the bland features of a gentleman who 
had passed the contribution box in a wealthy 
up-town church where he visited one Sunday. 
He had observed him after the service roll 
away in grand style with his family, coachman, 
and valet. He knew him again by his patron- 
izing smile and porcelain teeth. “ Bedad, he 


This class of men is very helpless in worldly matters. Their 
lives and training have all been directed to one specific purpose. 
Often their studies have been also limited and directed to this one 
end. While they may be fine metaphysicians and deeply versed in 
scholastic philosophy, they may be as ignorant as Arabs of the ele- 
ments of arithmetic or bookkeeping. Men of delicate sensitive- 
ness of character, they shrink from contact with the ignobile vulgus 
that crowd the paths of trade and commerce. They are leading a 
gentleman’s life now; why should they, for what may be a mere 
intellectual phantasm, sacrifice that living, forfeit forever the love 
and respect of their friends, and step down and out into the wide, 
bustling, busy world? It is thus they reason; and the very antici- 
pation of possible misfortune serves as the strongest tie to bind 
them to their slavery.” 


94 


Father Flynn . 


looks angelic ; I ’ll try him,” said Murtagh. 
And try him he did, but to no purpose. Mr. 
Sweetword was exact in his selection of sales- 
men ; he acted on preenceple. It was an age of 
universal peculation ; he never employed any 
person without proper credentials. He was 
very sorry indeed, but it was risky to employ 
strangers, and he never took risks. That was 
another of his preenceples. He handed Mur- 
tagh a book. “ A lee tie work of his own, elu- 
cidating some important business preenceples ; a 
leetirary effort prompted only by pheelanthropic 
motives.” He hoped the business hints would 
be of value to him. “ Good day, sir, good day ; ” 
and he smilingly bowed the hungry, weary, 
lonely, disappointed man out of the store. 

The book certainly aimed high, flaunting the 
title : — 

INDUSTRY BASED ON MORAL PRINCIPLES; 

OR, 

THE OBSERVANCE OF CERTAIN BUSINESS LAWS 
MORALLY ELEVATING. 

BY 

A NEW YORK MERCHANT. 

After a perusal of its contents Murtagh char- 
acteristically remarked : “ Well, now, how clev- 
erly stupid. It outrivals Con Curley’s donkey 


95 


Cast Down , but Not Destroyed. 

who refused good oats for thistles. This 
seraphic merchant has got a bald head out- 
side and inside. An Irish buccough 1 has more 
brains under his caubeen . 2 Well, Murtagh, if 
you lose a few more meals you ’ll not have the 
spirit of Jack Shea, who was frightened into a 
fever by the mewing of a kitten after night- 
fall.” 

It is hard to be a philosopher when hunger 
loudly demands attention, yet history relates 
deeds of heroism performed under most dis- 
couraging circumstances. History also informs 
us that saintship has triumphed where philoso- 
phy had failed. Mr. Flynn had reason now to 
look beyond the consolations of philosophy. 
His trials were severe ; he had no friendly coun- 
selor to advise him ; no congenial friend to 
cheer him. His lodging was common, his fare 
meagre, his clothing insufficient, his shoes 
broken. For it came to pass that he had be- 
come personally acquainted with the sign of the 
“ Three Balls,” where he pawned his outside 
covering for the means wherewith to procure 
inside nourishment. Like the children of Israel, 
this honest soul experienced bitter suffering, 
but unlike them no murmur fell from his 
lips. More than once this ancient Irish charm 


i Beggar. 


2 Old hat. 


96 


Father Flynn. 


for securing plenty of money occurred to his 
mind : “ Kill a black cock and go to the meet- 
ing of three cross-roads where a murderer is 
buried. Throw the dead bird over your left- 
shoulder then and there after nightfall, in the 
name of the devil, holding a piece of money in 
your hand all the while. And ever after, no 
matter what you spend, you will find the same 
piece of money undiminished in your pocket.” 

44 Be the powers,” added Murtagh, as this 
charm haunted the chambers of his memory, 44 1 
have n’t the bird ; I don’t know such a grave ; 
I prefer to resist the devil than to invoke his 
aid, and I have n’t the piece of money. This 
charm, like the religion of Borne, has too many 
impossible conditions. But I ’ve got a better 
charm, thank God ! and being in extreme need 
I ’ll make use of it.” He then opened the Bible 
and read from Isaiah 43 : 1-4 : — 

But now thus ^ith the Lord that created thee, O 
Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, fear not: 
for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy 
name; thou art mine. When thou passeth through 
the waters I will be with thee ; and through the rivers 
they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest 
through the fire thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall 
the flame kindle upon thee ; For I am the Lord thy 
God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour; I gave 
Egypt for thy ransom, Ethiopia and Seba for thee. 


Cast Down , but Not Destroyed. 97 

Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been 
honorable and I have loved thee. 

He also read from the sixth chapter of the 
Gospel of St. Matthew from the twenty-fourth 
verse to the end : — 

No man can serve two masters : for either he will 
hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to 
the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God 
and mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take no 
thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye 
shall drink ; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put 
on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than 
raiment ? Behold the fowls of the air : they sow not, 
neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your 
heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much 
better than they? Which of you by taking thought 
can add one cubit unto his stature ? And why take ye 
thought for raiment ? Consider the lilies of the field, 
how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin : 
And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his 
glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, 
if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day 
is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not 
much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? There- 
fore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat ? or, 
What shall we drink ? or, Wherewithal shall we be 
clothed? (For all these things do the Gentiles seek:) 
for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye need all 
these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God 
and his righteousness; and all these things shall be 
added unto you. Take, therefore, no thought for the 


98 


Father Flynn. 


morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for 
the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil 
thereof. 

The effect produced within his soul by these ' 
promises was electrical. He was lifted to the 
third heaven of exultation. Whereupon he 
broke out : “ Murtagh, me honey, are ye listen- 
ing to me? With such words from your heav- 
enly Father and your blessed Saviour, will you 
ever doubt again ? And what business had you 
to run away from your own country and people, 
eh ? Why did n’t you remain and face the whole 
pack of Jesuits, and tell the good tidings of sal- 
vation to your poor blind parishioners? Maybe 
God is allowing me to suffer for my cowardice, 
or He may be teaching me the great things of 
His providence and grace that I may be better 
prepared to do His will.” He soon fell into a 
reverie ; his dreamy eyes were not fixed on any 
material object, while in mental vision he saw 
himself again at Turf Bog, preaching the 
precious gospel of Christ to his people, whose 
hearts had been mysteriously prepared for its 
reception. There, too, he saw Miss Somers with 
her earnest face and lips moving in prayer for 
their conversion to Jesus Christ. The vision 
changed, for he next saw the dark, scowling face 
of Bishop O’Dowd, piercing him through with 


Cast Down , but Not Destroyed . 99 

his wicked eye, while behind this heretic-hunter 
stood an assassin preparing to take his life. 
With a slight shudder Murtagh awoke from his 
reverie, looked around his room, repeating aloud, 
44 When thou walkest through the fire thou shalt 
not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle 
upon thee.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

PERPLEXED, BUT NOT IN DESPAIR. 

Soon after his arrival in New York Mr. Flynn 
inquired for a Protestant place of worship. He 
was directed to a church on one of the great 
avenues which leads from the business parts of 
the city to the beautiful, far-famed Central Park. 
The morning was bright, the air refreshing, the 
street wide, clean, and quiet. Traffic had ceased, 
and only the carriages of wealthy churchgoers 
rolled along the concreted boulevard. Mr. 
Flynn enjoyed his freedom from the irksome 
responsibilities of a Papal priest. As a simple 
Christian he offered unto God the acceptable 
sacrifice of praise. This heart-worship needed 
neither picture nor image to aid devotion ; it 
was not necessary that he enter spired church or 
vaulted cathedral to worship God with accep- 
tance. Neither Jerusalem nor Mount Gerizim, 
neither lonely cloister nor consecrated chapel, 
is holy ground. Nevertheless it is an instinct 
of regenerate souls to assemble themselves to- 
gether in the name of Jesus for united public 
, loo 


101 


Perplexed, but Not in Despair. 

worship, prayer, and godly edification. With- 
out analyzing his reasons for so doing, Murtagh 
felt it right to seek out some Christian church 
where the Bible would be honored and its doc- 
trines taught without the admixture of Rome’s 
fallacious errors. He knew not, as yet, that 
many damnable heresies had found advocates 
among Protestants ; that tenets more dangerous 
than papistical traditions were openly preached 
by men who denied the Lord that bought them. 
Papal preachers never repudiate the divinity of 
Jesus; indeed, they gladly ascribe to Him His 
true and proper deity, even while robbing Him 
of His rightful title as absolute and only Saviour. 
In paintings and statuary they represent Him 
either as a helpless babe in the arms of Madonna, 
or a dying Man on the cross. They have prac- 
tically ceased to know the power of His resur- 
rection. But there are professedly Protestant 
teachers of a school absolutely profane, to whom 
the Bible is only a human philosophy and Christ 
a humane reformer. Others in theory accept 
the supernatural element both in the Bible and 
in Jesus, but degrade the spirituality of His 
teachings, and the object of His advent, into a 
religion of culture. This is their potential 
agency for the elevation and purification of 
the world which lieth in wickedness ! These 


102 


Father Flynn. 


preachers regard the moral teachings of the 
Bible as an eau de cologne which sweetens the 
foul drainage of moral corruption and makes 
the world respectable and Christian. This de- 
lusion has many votaries who do not perceive 
its logical consequences. It denies our Lord’s 
legislation for His own kingdom, and mocks 
His protest against all reformatory measures as 
a qualification for that kingdom. It was to 
a refined, respectable, cultured professor of 
religion Jesus declared: “Marvel not that I 
said unto thee, Ye must be born again.” 

Mr. Flynn, unfortunately, entered a church 
where regeneration was not preached and where 
its very necessity was denied. Wealthy sin- 
ners had employed a fashionable preacher whose 
mild platitudes fell soothingly upon sensitive 
ears and seared consciences. What a thunder- 
storm John the Baptist’s sermon would prove 
to such a congregation, “Repent, repent, for 
the kingdom of heaven is at hand ! ” What an 
earthquake shock would his question produce, 
“Ye serpents, ye brood of vipers, who hath 
warned you to escape the damnation of hell ? ” 
Murtagh naturally expected in a Protestant 
church a simple, spiritual service, such as he 
had witnessed in Dublin, with the delicate 
courtesies born of real religion, such as Miss 


103 


Perplexed, but Not in Despair. 

Somers had shown him.. But in these two par- 
ticulars he suffered disappointment. Novice 
though he was, he instinctively felt the incon- 
gruity of his position. Self-admiration, not 
worship, was the incense which arose from each 
devotee. Murtagh fancied himself in some 
magnificent grotto whose scintillating stalac- 
tites dimly reflected each rainbow color. He 
admired the costly architecture, but felt chilled 
to the marrow. The singing was utterly unin- 
telligible, the prayers fell from icy lips, while 
the sermon was a fulsome adulation of a hu- 
manitarian book, with criticisms on the elevat- 
ing influence of art in general and philosophical 
fiction in particular. The young convert sighed 
heavily over Ms misfortune ; he came for bread 
and was given a stone. Oh, how he missed the 
precious Gospel of God’s grace to sinners ! He 
feared the fount of devotion would freeze within 
him. He felt condemned for his presence in 
this church, and though not knowing why, 
somehow, somewhere, his spiritual nature was 
outraged by this travesty on spiritual religion. 
Being an ardent worshiper, he had deep con- 
victions that the living Father should be wor- 
shiped with the whole heart. He questioned 
within himself whether he could train his re- 
ligious nature to appreciate this dismal, unsatis- 


104 


Father Flynn. 


fying Christianity. How can he petrify the 
emotions of his soul? Can he ever reach that 
standard of piety where he could complacently 
enjoy the outrageous performances of this ir- 
reverent choir ? 

Having reached his room in a state of mental 
commotion, he turned to his Bible for consola- 
tion. He had frequently proved its power to 
instruct and comfort. He now read from John’s 
Gospel, twentieth chapter. With great force 
the words of the thirteenth verse impressed him. 
“The Lord forgive me,” said he, “for being so 
uncharitable, but I fear this is true of the gilded 
sepulchre beyond : 4 They have taken away my 
Lord, and I know not where they have laid 
him.’ Never once did the preache'r mention the 
precious Name of the world’s Redeemer. I 
formerly believed in miracles. Now I ’ve wiL 
nessed one : a Protestant clergyman performing 
divine service with Christ left out.” Murtagh 
was deeply affected as he pondered on this 
inexcusable omission. But he found relief in 
prayer. He prayed for the preacher, for the 
congregation, and for the choir, whose unbe- 
coming antics in the sanctuary had shocked 
him ; he prayed also for himself, long and 
earnestly, that his heart might be kept warm 
with the love of Christ and that he might not 


105 


Perplexed , but Not in Despair. 

lose the peace of the gospel. He arose from his 
knees comforted ; the glowing atmosphere of 
communion with God rekindled the fire of devo- 
tion within him ; he had a new experience hence- 
forth to warn him that churches as well as in- 
dividuals may retain the form of godliness while 
lacking its power. 

The Sunday following Murtagh entered un- 
knowingly a ritualistic church. With a puzzled 
expression of countenance he inquired if this 
was a Protestant place of worship. His wonder 
did not cease when informed that it was. 
Shrewdly guessing that while Protestant in 
name it was essentially Papal, he left the place 
muttering, “ I had enough of that fandango, 
only not so stylish. Bedad, it takes a mint of 
money to keep those priests in such slashing 
gowns. But didn’t they whine. I ’ve heard 
of that holy tone used by bigwigs belonging to 
the English Ritualists. The dear help us, but 
it ’s the queer fashion ; it reminds me of Bill 
O’Halloran’s mule when singing to his com- 
panion.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


PLEASING DISCOVERIES. 

Our friend had now made the acquaintance 
of several churches. Wherever the Word of 
God was faithfully expounded, he rejoiced as 
one finding great spoil. But the shabbiness of 
his appearance made him shrink from contact 
with well-dressed people. Even, in his judg- 
ment, the churches in which he enjoyed the 
services were too gorgeous for the disciples of 
Jesus. Having spent a Sunday in the seclusion 
of his room he started for a walk in the evening 
where gas and electricity lighted up the streets. 
Soon he faced a bulletin-board announcing a 
meeting in the adjoining hall, to which Roman 
Catholics were specially invited. The meeting 
would be addressed by several converted priests. 
Himself now, thank God ! a converted priest, 
he re-read the advertisement more than once 
with considerable emotional excitement. Seeing 
crowds of people ascending the stairway, Mur- 
tagh joined them. He entered a spacious hall 
already filled with a large congregation, most 


Pleasing Discoveries. 


107 


respectable in appearance and demeanor. Many 
of them were evidently Irish Catholics. On the 
platform were seated several gentlemen of cleri- 
cal appearance. The leader, a man of refined 
classic features, with high forehead and full rich 
brown beard, wearing glasses, commenced the 
services by announcing the well-known hymn, 

u Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly.” 

He made a few comments on this grand old 
evangelical rendition, especially on the lines : — 

“ Thou, O Christ, art all I want, 

More than all in Thee I find.” 

“ Where,” said he, “ is there room for Mary, 
or Joseph, or Leo XIII, if we find all our salva- 
tion and all our desire in Jesus ? ” To which 
Murtagh audibly responded, “ Hear, hear ! ” 
much to the surprise and amusement of the au- 
dience. The opening prayer fell soothingly 
upon our friend’s ear, coming as a breath of life 
upon his soul. 

The chairman next introduced Father D , 

who briefly narrated his experiences. He had 
tested the doctrines of the Roman Catholic 
Church by a careful comparison with Scripture 


108 


Father Flynn . 


and church history. “Not one of them,” said 
he, “ could be supported by the Word of God.” 

Father D made a proper and important 

distinction between formal and vital Christi- 
anity. “ You may,” he continued, “ remain a 
Romanist or become a Protestant and never 
enter heaven. None but sinners cleansed 
through the Blood of the Lord Jesus, who are 
saved by Grace alone, can enter there.” His 
declaration so fully accorded with Murtagh’s 
own experience that the irrepressible man au- 
dibly responded, “ Right you are, me honey ! ” 

Father E was next introduced to the 

audience. He was Murtagh’s veritable counter- 
part, looking like a twin-brother — rotund, 
pleasant-faced, emotional, determined. In a 
masterly manner he described and denounced 
the Confessional. It was while hearing the sad 
confession of a penitent he was first startled 
with the thought that, as a professed servant 
of the great God, he had no adequate remedy 
to assuage the sorrows of a broken heart or 
heal this wounded spirit. He had prayed with 
an honest purpose that God would teach him 
His way. How wonderfully the Holy Spirit 
works in the human heart ! How accurate are 
the words of Jesus ? “ If any man will do His 
will, he shall know of the doctrine.” Father 


Pleasing Discoveries. 


109 


E was led by a different path from others 

to the Cross of Christ, but there, he too, lost his 
load of sin, for he now trusted only in Christ 
for salvation, who bore his sins in His own body 
on the tree. His address, which was chaste, 
scholarly, and deeply earnest, made a visible 
impression on the audience. Murtagh’s face 
was bathed in tears. 

Father O , the chairman, next reviewed 

his own life, dwelling especially on his consid- 
eration for his relatives when entering upon 
this new path of discipleship. His remarks 
touched Murtagh on a tender spot; he thought 
of his sorrowing parents who were yet unaware 
of their son’s apostasy ! The service having 

ended, Father O called upon the audience 

to come forward and greet these servants of 
Christ who had left all to follow the Master. 
Murtagh seized upon this opportunity of intro- 
ducing himself, whereupon the ex-priest Father 
O received him affectionately. He in- 

quired into his circumstances; whether he had 
friends or found a home in the city ; to all of 
which, and many more like questions, Murtagh 

replied honestly and manfully. Father O 

took the weary man to his home, where he was 
bidden sweet welcome for Christ’s sake. When 
presented to Father O ’s queenly wife, she 


110 


Father Flynn. 


gave him the tender welcome of a warm Chris- 
tian Irish heart. During the hours which fol- 
lowed he seemed like a man enjoying a delight- 
ful dream with the fear haunting him that it was 
only a dream, soon to melt away. But the 

generous supper which Mrs. O spread for 

her husband and their guest was no dream ; the 
Christian conversation around the table was no 
dream ; the simple prayer mingled with thanks- 
giving offered by Father O before retiring 

was no dream ; the. clean, sweet bedroom, the 
night-robe ; the delicate attentions shown the 
weary man who hungered for Christian friend- 
ship and fellowship, were too glorious a reality 
to permit immediate sleep. He indulged in 
his present joys and praised God for this open 
door of hope. It was some time before sweet 
oblivion stilled the excited brain, some time 
before the slumber of the righteous, like a 
celestial visitor, hushed every emotion of ex- 
quisite pleasure into the peacefulness of sleep’s 
tranquillity. 

For hours during the following morning Mr. 
Flynn gave himself to wondering. He heard 

from Father O of several priests who had 

recently fled from Leo to Jesus ; how that many 
of them had been fed, sheltered, and counseled 
by Father and Mrs. O until suitable em- 


Pleasing Discoveries . 


Ill 


ployment was found for them ; he noticed the 
interest this loving wife took in the plans and 
hopes of her husband, who had announced 
his decision to open a house some day, when 
God sent the means, where conscientious priests 
who became dissatisfied with Catholicism would 
find a temporary home. He heard with addi- 
tional wonder that in New York and its 
v^inity several hundreds of Roman Catholics 
were converted from idols to serve the living 
and true God; that a great movement was 
going on among them throughout the country, 
and that priests and people were inquiring the 

way of salvation. “Yes,” broke in Mrs. O , 

“and Jesus saved you, Mr. Flynn, that you 
might be His witness.” Her eyes shone with 
an intelligent light, her face beamed with hope, 
and her decidedly earnest manner held Murtagh 
a deeply interested listener as she went on : 
“You are young and strong; you have ability 
and experience ; you have felt the galling yoke 
of Rome, and tasted the joy of spiritual free- 
dom. There are thousands of our countrymen 
waiting for the opportunity, and you must 
cooperate with my good husband in preaching 
to the Irish Catholics the Gospel of God’s 
grace.” 

Murtagh observed in the illustration before 


112 


Father Flynn. 


him the blessedness of God’s purpose, that man 
should have a helpmeet. And although he 
had not previously studied the question of celi- 
bacy in the light of Scripture, he instinctively 
felt how superior is the man, like the priests of 
old, who has a godly wife as friend and coun- 
selor, to the celibate who is not so by personal 
choice, but made so by the severe, unnatural, and 
iniquitous system which claims Peter, a married 
Apostle of the Lord, as its founder, yet binds 
its priests, the professed successors of Peter, to 
an unlawful and unscriptural bachelorhood. 

O Murtagh, you are daily discovering the 
false, while learning the true. There are oppor- 
tunities now before you to be seized immedi- 
ately. We wish for you, not only that you lift 
your voice as a preacher of the true Cross in 
the streets of our cities, but that you shall re- 
visit your own land and lovingly entreat your 
own people that they come out from all decep- 
tions of men, from all superstitions of a false 
faith, from sin and vanity, to the loving and liv- 
ing Saviour. O Murtagh, as Christ came to 
seek and to save the lost, so, imitating His un- 
selfish example and seeking divine power from 
His Spirit, go forth on a like errand. 

“Go with the Name of Jesus to the dying, 

And speak that Name in all its living power.” 


Pleasing Discoveries . 


113 


Remember the true saying of a Dublin arch- 
bishop : “ If our religion is not true, we are 
bound to change it ; if it is true, we are bound 
to propagate it.” You found your religion 
false ; it was yours only by birthright, not by 
personal conviction : you renounced it for a 
faith which saves and satisfies; then go and 
propagate it, not indeed to make proselytes to 
a new creed, but to make converts to Christ, our 
glorious Immanuel. 

Nor wonder, O brother, that there are thou- 
sands of Romanists, bishops, priests, and people, 
in this and other lands, hungering for the bread 
of life, but rather wonder that the great 
opportunity is not appreciated by Christians 
generally. In the city where you found your- 
self a stranger you paced the hot flags with 
bleeding feet and breaking heart ; in that city, 
where wealth inconceivable is amassed ; where 
philanthropy stirs the breast of unselfish men 
and consecrated women ; where noble, self-deny- 
ing Christian work is done to redeem the drunk- 
ard, to reform the harlot, to elevate the de- 
graded, and increase the comfort of the poor; 
— wonder, I say, O Murtagh, that where 
churches are erected at enormous cost; where 
expensive hospitals are built and richly en- 
dowed; where numberless missions are sup- 


114 


Father Flynn. 


ported by the good and the great, — there is as 
yet NO home to shelter priest or nun who vol- 
untarily decides to sever his or her connection 
with a false Church that he or she may freely 
serve the Lord Christ. The transition period 
is the most trying, when leaving the comforts 
of home and the companionship of friends to 
face the stern realities of life in a cold and 
heartless world. Wonder then, my hero, that, 
as yet, no man blest with this world’s goods has 
consecrated a portion of it to such a worthy en- 
terprise ; that noble, generous men and women 
have neglected an opportunity for incalculable 
good, which, if rightly utilized, may result in 
educating, encouraging, and equipping a band 
of converted Romanists who may speedily solve 
the problem of Ireland’s evangelization, and 
prove themselves worthy to cope with the press- 
ing evils which endanger the peace of this Re- 
public. Why may not converted priests become 
the evangelizers of the raw Irish emigrant ; why 
may they not enlighten him that he shall not 
henceforth become the ready tool of the cor- 
rupted politician, whose love for the Irish race 
is the lust of power and the greed of self- 
interest. 

The Americanized Irish Catholic is losing 
reverence for the traditions of his fatherland 


Pleasing Discoveries. 115 

and faith in the superstitions of his religion. 
He discards the legends of St. Patrick in pro- 
portion as he studies the authentic prayers and 
confessions of that great missionary-evangelist; 
he loses faith in holy water, sacred shrines, 
blessed rags, and celestial relics, as he studies 
with independent thought and free judgment 
the religious problems of the day. But where 
the hydra-headed serpent of infidelity is turned 
loose, where its destructive power is the admi- 
ration of bold blasphemers, the Irish race, not- 
withstanding their deep reverence for sacred 
things, are exposed to the fangs of the monster. 
There are priests still within the pale of the 
Catholic Church who have warned the public 
against the blasphemies of agnosticism ; in po- 
lemical warfare they have worsted the infidel, 
but, alas ! they have failed to direct the serpent- 
bitten to the only remedy provided for their 
salvation. Upon you, O Murtagh, and others 
who have known by blessed experience the 
thoroughness of the cure, rests the responsibility 
of proclaiming to the Irish race at home and 
abroad the glad tidings, that, “ As Moses lifted 
up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of 
man be lifted up : that whosoever believeth in 
Him may not perish, but may have life ever- 
lasting. For God so loved the world as to give 


116 


Father Flynn. 


His only begotten Son : that whosoever believ- 
eth in Him may not perish, but may have life 
everlasting ” (John 3 : 14-17. Douay, V). 

Nor shall I wonder, O Murtagh, if, after due 
preparation and qualification, under the guid- 
ance and brotherly help of good Father O , 

you may again visit the classic city of Dublin, 
enjoy a service in Merrion Hall, receive cour- 
tesies from Miss Somers, concerning whom you 
have your own private fancies, and in your for- 
mer parish of Turf Bog, perhaps cheered by 
the presence and prayers of a true helpmeet, 
you shall enjoy the exquisite pleasure of lead- 
ing souls to Christ for salvation, as they hear 
from your lips the divine Gospel of the Grace 
of God. And perhaps in the near future some 
Christian citizen will seize upon the golden op- 
portunity of providing a Home for the shelter 
and training of converted priests , who are the 
best qualified missionaries to the Catholic Irish 
race, whether found on foreign soil or still 
nourished at the torn breast of Mother Erin. 


Pleasing Discoveries. 117 

THE CALL OF THE MASTER TO ERIN. 

✓Birthplace of poetic dreams, 

Mother of romantic streams, 

With thy lakes and mountains hoary, 

Yales renown’d in song and story, 

Waving woods and fertile plains, 

Scenes where virgin beauty reigns ; — 

Erin ! cradled by the sea, 

Rise I The Master calleth thee ! 

Beautiful without, — within 
Error, superstition, sin, 

Blinded zeal, misled devotion, — 

Restless as the waves of ocean. 

Fierce in hate though strong in love, 

Varying as the clouds above: — 

This is not what thou should’st be ; 

Rise ! The Master calleth thee ! 

Heed not what false friends may say, 

Love and Duty point the way ; 

Lay aside thy weeds of mourning, 

Gladly hail thy Lord’s returning; 

Be again what thou hast been — 

“ Isle of Saints,” a garden green! 

Fling thy chains aside, be free ! 

Rise ! The Master calleth thee ! 

Ah ! but light and life are fled ! 

Can the Master raise the dead, 

Bring again the lov’d departed, 

Make the downcast buoyant-hearted? 

Long the night, and dark the skies, 

Can His Word make Light arise ? 

Erin, yes ! though dark it be. 

Up ! E’en now He calleth thee I 


118 


Father Flynn . 


Torn by tierce intestine strife 
Wake to higher, holier life, 

See the nations round thee growing, 

Light advancing, knowledge flowing ; 

Dream not of thy days of youth, 

This thy morning — seize the Truth ; 

God’s own Truth can make you free, 

Rise ! In love He calleth thee ! 

Master, come ! Thy word of migh t 
Sounded once, and there was light ; 

See, we doubt Thy promise never, — 

Faithful hearts are pleading ever 
For the sunshine of Thy smile 
To illumine this our Isle. 

Let us Thy salvation see, 

Master, come ! we wait for Thee ! 

Morning Star of Hope and Love, 

Shine on Erin from above I 
Jesus, Source of true affection, 

Thou the Life, the Resurrection, 

Speak ! Restore the dead to life, 

Calm the waves of party strife, 

That our Island, bless’d and free 
May be given entire to thee ! 

Then our lakes of silver sheen, 

Yerdant plains and valleys green, 

Rivers broad and flashing fountains, 

Wooded hills and rocky mountains 
Shall reecho full and free 
dSarth’s glad song of Jubilee ; 

Truth shall flourish as of yore, 

God shall bless the Shamrock shore I 

— Alexander Stewart. 


APPENDIX. 


I wish to call the reader’s special attention 
to the most improbable part of this story as de- 
tailed on page 65. Three months after that 
chapter had been written there appeared a 
pamphlet narrating the personal experiences 
of Rev. Thomas Connellan, formerly a Roman 
Catholic curate of Athlone, Ireland. The fol- 
lowing article appeared in “ The Roscommon 
Messenger,” which the author of “ Father 
Flynn " had not seen till quite recently : — 

“ The shock that the priests and people of 
Athlone received on Tuesday night last when 
the dreadful news reached the town, at about 
half-past eight o’clock, that Father Connellan’s 
clothes had been found in a boat which had 
drifted on the shore of the Lough Ree, and that 
the reverend gentleman was missing since morn- 
ing, can better be imagined than described. 
The people turned out en masse and rushed 
excitedly from one place to another inquiring 
into and discussing the lamentable occurrence, 
and boats were immediately manned by willing 
hands and a party with lanterns and other 


120 


Father Flynn . 


necessaries started for the lake to search the 
island in the vain hope which so often precedes 
despair. In the meantime the people thronged 
the streets and the precincts of St. Peter’s, and 
the suspense which was felt in the town during 
the absence of the boats was succeeded by the 
most heartfelt lamentations on their return at 
midnight after a fruitless journey. 

“ It was not until the following morning that 
people properly realized the shocking occurrence 
and that any of the circumstances surrounding 
the melancholy event could be realized. That 
Father Connellan left home shortly after twelve 
o’clock on Tuesday, having provided himself 
with a bag containing towels, etc., and pro- 
ceeded up the lake in a boat is well known. 
After that, however, there are only theories and 
circumstances to tell of his sad and untimely 
fate. 

“ He was observed pulling leisurely about on 
the lake at about two o’clock, it is said, by some . 
persons going towards Hudson’s Bay, but that 
was the last that was seen of him. His boat 
was remarked drifting on shore at Ballyglass 
Hill at about four o’clock ; and at about six 
o’clock a Mr. Hughes and a man named 
M’Donnell and his son, remarking the boat such 
a length of time there without an owner, went 


Appendix. 


121 


towards it and discovered the clothes, which 
they at once recognized as those of a priest. 
On further examination Father Connellan’s 
name was observed on the inside of the bag, 
and M’Donnell and his son brought the boat to 
Athlone and were the first to convey the sad 
news.” 

We now subjoin Father Connellan’s own ex- 
planation of his disappearance, taken from his 
thrillingly interesting pamphlet. It vindicates 
my disposal of Father Flynn as within the 
bounds of probability. Nor will any incident of 
my narrative be found an exaggeration. We 
rejoice that Father Connellan is also a free man 
in Christ Jesus ; a true convert to the faith of 
the gospel. Thus he has written : — 

“ Tuesday, September 20, 1887, was my last 
day on the Shannon. I was sick almost to 
death, but the hope of speedy emancipation sus- 
tained me. After breakfast my parish priest 
had a talk with me about certain schools of 
which I had charge, and then I walked out of 
St. Peter’s for ever. I had sent a Gladstone 
bag containing a secular suit of clothes to the 
boat, and determined at any risk to have done 
with my old life. It was a lovely day, bright 
and breezy, and the pull on the river soothed, 


122 


Father Flynn. 


as it always did, my agitated nerves. I landed 
on the Leinster shore, near Carberry, deposited 
my secular clothes in some underwood, and 
pushed out into the river. I then undressed, 
dodged a fisherman for a little, and having 
plunged into the water swam ashore. I stood 
for a moment upon a green mound to have a 
last look at the Shannon, then dashed across 
some uplands, through a red bog, finally emerg- 
ing on the railway. I might have run to Moate, 
I fancy, had I so desired. No baptism by water 
had ever wrought a more wonderful regenera- 
tion than had that plunge into the sunlit Shan- 
non. The load of suffering and care which I 
had carried for years remained with my clerical 
garb in the boat. Never did blind Homer give 
expression to a greater truth than when he 
said : — 


On the day that makes a bondman of the free, 
Wide-seeing Zeus takes half the man away. 

“ For years I had been as wretched a slave as 
ever tugged at galley oar. Now I bounded a 
free man once again, and my old spirit had re- 
turned. I caught the evening train from Moate, 
and had my first sound sleep for many months in 
Dublin that night. Next morning I crossed 
from Kingstown, and about six o’clock in the 


Appendix. 


123 


evening stepped out in London, friendless and 
unknown, in a wilderness of five millions of 
souls. But the God who befriended the Ju- 
daean shepherd lad when sold in Egypt took 
care of me.” 

At the present time Father Connellan is 
residing with his father in the midst of his 
former parishioners, many of whom have heard 
from his own lips the story of his conversion 
from darkness to light. His life is another 
illustration of the transforming power of the 
Gospel of the Grace of God. 




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72 Bible House, New York, 


VALUABLE BOOKS. 


THE CONVERTED CATHODIC. Vols. II, III, IV, V, and VI, 

when ordered together, bound in cloth, $6.00. 

THE CONVERTED CATHOLIC. Vol. VI, for last year, bound 
in cloth like the preceding volumes, is now ready; price, post- 
paid, $1.50. 

ROMANISM AND THE REPUBLIC. By Rev. Dr. Lansing. 
62 cents. 

Lord Robert Montagu’s great work, THE SOWER AND 
THE VIRGIN. $1.50. 

Father Chiniquy’s Autobiography, FIFTY YEARS IN THE 
CHURCH OF ROME. $2.00. 


CONVERTED CATHOLIC TRACTS. 


Sketch of Father O’Connor’s Life and Work. 32 pages. 

Portrait of Mary in Heaven, drawn from Holy Scripture. 

32 pages. 

Difficulties of Roman Catholic Priests. 16 pages. 

The Crucified Jesus and the Penitent Thief. By Father 
Chiniquy. 22 pages. 

What Attitude Should Protestant Ministers Maintain 
Towards Roman Catholicism? An address delivered 
before the Ministerial Union of Baltimore. By Rev. James A . 
O’Connor. December 30, 1889. 24 pages. 

These are excellent tracts for distribution. We will send a 
package of 10 of each for 50 cents, or 35 of each for $1.00. 
Address all orders to 


JAMES A. O’CONNOR, 11 Bible House, New York. 


The Converted Catholic. 

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 

Edited by Father O’Connor. 

NOW IN ITS SEVENTH YEAR. 


This magazine is specially designed for the conver- 
sion of Roman Catholics to Evangelical Christianity. 
Its special features are testimonies of recent converts 
from Rome (twelve hundred of which have been already 
published) ; the irrepressible conflict between the reli- 
gion of Christ and the religion of the Pope ; the Jesuit 
conspiracy against American institutions, notably the 
public schools ; and general enlightenment on the 
Roman Catholic question. 

Subscription, $1.00 a year. Sample copies sent on 
application. 

JAMES A. O’CONNOR, Publisher, 


Bible House, New York. 





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